Motherhood

I’m realizing now that it’s been quite some time since I’ve updated my blog. Although I’ve continued to write, I’ve been reluctant to share as vulnerably as I once did, as life has been spinning wildly in new and uncertain directions. 2021 was the most beautiful blur of a year. I gained the title of “mother” to the most precious child that I can wrap my arms around Earthside, and with that, welcomed a new identity and layer of myself that I'm still learning to this day. 

April 1, 2021. 

April Fool’s Day. 

You arrived in true Wells fashion, and were everything my heart needed, and nothing it deserved. Wells Everett Howard, born April 1, 2021. The moment you took your first breath, my heart finally felt at peace. The first day of your life, sweet Wells, was the best day of mine.

I mean, after the rollercoaster of a ride we have been on to get you here, why wouldn’t God allow you to be born on such a quintessential holiday. The joke was on us. God gave us the most perfect little boy, and fulfilled our heart’s desires even though we worried and questioned if it would ever happen for us.

It’s hard to admit, but I truly didn’t believe I’d ever be a mom until I held you in my arms for the first time at 3:31 am. The entire pregnancy, I was cautiously optimistic. Hopeful that we would get to love you Earthside, but constantly reminded of my other three beloved babies I had planned for, prayed for, and dreamed about that were all lost too soon. 

Carrying my precious son was one of the most incredible experiences, but bringing him into this world was indescribable. After 4 weeks of bedrest following a diagnosis of preeclampsia that escalated into HELLP syndrome, I was told very quickly at a routine appointment that my health had further declined and I’d be induced later that afternoon at 36 weeks, 5 days. We hadn’t planned for a March baby, but my doctor’s felt that it was the best decision for my health and the wellbeing of Wells, so it was go time! I began laboring at 7:00 pm that evening, making extremely slow progress and anxiously awaiting the arrival of our precious boy. After 24 hours of labor, I opted for an epidural to allow my body to rest and progress the remaining 3 centimeters before it was time to push. 32 hours after labor began, we welcomed the most perfect child into the world. Your dad had the joyous experience to assist in delivery, alongside the most exceptional team of doctors and nurses. As he held you up for me to see, my world stopped spinning. I never want to forget this moment. The two most loved people in my life before me, and the long-awaited gift that God had promised to fulfill was finally here! Your perfect little head was covered in hair, and you were wailing and flailing your arms and legs from the get go. I always knew you were a fighter. The moment Dr. Rashidian placed you on my chest, the fear and anxiety was lifted from us both. You instantly quieted at my voice, and I looked down at the evidence of God’s goodness, you, my precious baby boy. 

The days following Wells' birth were as terrifying as the moment those two pink lines appeared on that pregnancy test. Just 12 hours after our sweet Wells entered the world, he stopped breathing, resulting in intubation, a helicopter ride to Norton’s children’s hospital, and a 10 day NICU stay at an attempt to resolve whatever was going on medically with our baby. Those 10 days were the most treacherous days of our lives. Ben and I watched helplessly as our baby was attached to wires and cords, being wheeled away for EEGs, CT scans, MRIs, and being fed via feeding tube. I physically ached to hold him in my arms and to nourish his body with mine. In those moments, I realized that the worry I felt carrying him in my womb had not diminished now that he was Earthside. If anything, that worry had magnified. I had finally given birth to a living, breathing child and the feeling of helplessness seeing him sick was more than I could bear. 

No one prepared me for the days following Wells’ birth, but no amount of preparation could have prepared me for my postpartum experience. In the midst of a National pandemic, hospital policies forbid Ben and me from staying in the NICU with Wells overnight. With the Ronald McDonald house at full capacity, the next best thing was a hotel room a few blocks away from the NICU. Night after night, Ben literally dragged me onto the elevator to rest at the hotel, while our baby lie in his incubator alone. Every 2 hours when my alarm would go off, I would sit up, in nightsweat soaked sheets, with a scruffy voice from sleep deprivation and tears to call our NICU nurse to check on Wells. As they graciously updated me, assuring me that they were loving him well, I would sit helplessly scrolling through pictures and videos of the newborn baby I couldn't snuggle and hold, as I pumped and cried. It felt like all I could do in the moment to be there for him. Pump so that through his feeding tube, he would get the nutrients I so desperately longed to provide to him. 

Day after day we met with doctors, lactation consultants, specialists, and nurses; and day after day, we received no answers as to what was going on with our baby. On April 7th, exactly one week after Wells was born, the NICU nurse placed him in my arms for the first time since arriving to Louisville. I ripped the mask from my face and let my tears soak his tiny cheek and breathed him in, in every sense of the word. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of holding him for the second, first time. God has given me the strength to write of it now, but reminiscing those difficult days is nothing short of torture. It’s miraculous what human touch can do for the mind and body, especially between a mother and their child. Wells improved drastically over the next three days as we settled into the rhythm of nursing and soaked in every second of skin to skin. It’s by God’s grace that Wells and I have had such a beautiful breastfeeding journey. Just as God knew the desire of my heart for a baby, He knew the desire of my heart to be able to nurse that baby, and here we are 13 months strong with no signs of stopping anytime soon, even against all of the odds. The results of every single test administered during our stay was inconclusive; but on day 11 we finally brought our baby home and settled into life as a family of three. 

Two weeks after we brought Wells home, as his Dad was rocking him to sleep, he stopped breathing again. The nightmare returned as we flew a second time to Louisville, Kentucky for another extended hospital stay. I will spare you all the details, but the first 3 months of Wells’ life were incredibly difficult. We endured two medically warranted helicopter rides and two ambulance rides resulting in four different stays, beyond birth, in the hospital. We were desperate for routine and to take a deep breath without worrying. We needed answers as to what was going on with our child, and we unfortunately received none. All of his test results were inconclusive, leaving us with the diagnosis of “BRUE”: brief resolved unexplained episode. I vividly remember my husband crying out to God on his knees, on the emergency room floor “why us? Haven’t we been through enough?” Yet I am reminded by God’s words “why not us?” As treacherous of a journey we have traveled, we are reminded that often, we are so consumed with our own suffering that we forget that God suffers with us because He is always with us. Suffering, as difficult as it may be in the moment, can be an opportunity to draw closer to God and surrender our will to Him and His perfect plan. 

With the addition of Wells to our family, life shifted, as it very well should have. With every shift, I found my footing and adjusted to the our new normal with a baby. I learned some hard lessons this past year, lived through a different kind of grief, and watched as relationships dwindled that I thought would last forever. I navigated this newfound motherhood in a world of quarantines, isolation, and COVID-19; with a medically fragile baby in my arms, and a full yet guarded heart. I realized abruptly that the worry of motherhood extends beyond pregnancy. Just because Wells was “here” didn’t make worrying about his health and well being any less stressful. In an effort to protect him, boundaries were established, and I quickly evolved into the role of "mama bear," doing everything within my power to prioritize my family's health and wellbeing over anything else. For that, and an abundance of other reasons, I stepped away from social media, my blog, and even a few people in my life, and chose to absorb my baby, my husband, and our new life instead. 

There are days when I look back at life “a year ago” and can’t believe how different it looks now. I never imagined I’d be a stay-at-home mom, but it’s everything my heart desires now. I never imagined loving my husband more seeing him father our son, but it’s true. Your heart grows in unimaginable ways when you become a parent. I never thought I’d do life, celebrating life’s triumphs and surviving life’s struggles, without some people by my side. As I’ve swallowed every hard pill of a lesson and come to terms with seasons changing, I’ve been reminded again and again that my strength, my support, and my joy comes from the Lord. God is most glorified in me when I am most satisfied in Him, and that is what I’m striving for-contentment in Christ alone. 

I am in a season that I’ve waited and endured much for. No, the season is not all sunshine and butterflies, but I knew it wouldn’t be. It’s early mornings and loads of laundry, drooly kisses and irresistible coos. It’s cold cups of coffee and spit up stained clothes. It’s diaper change after diaper change and more month at the end of the money most times. It’s putting my family first and learning to say no to things that can wait. It’s embracing the lonely days and filling the silence with conversations with Jesus. Its dropping expectations and taking everyone’s “parenting advice” with a grain of salt. It’s trusting my gut, mom-in’ the best way I know how, and being intentional. It’s tired eyes and a full heart, and tears streaming down my face because my body can’t hold all of the joy inside. It’s feeling like I’ve finally found my purpose in life and like I’m actually good at it most days. Other days, it’s feeling like a complete failure and like I need a Momma manual. It’s my heart literally walking around outside of my body, and evidence of the goodness of the Lord in my life. 

Being Wells’ mom changed everything about me. It made me softer yet stronger. It made life more fulfilling yet more simplistic. Its shifted my focus, yet made me more intentional. It has taken away time but given me the best time I’ve ever spent. It’s made me slow down, enjoy, and savor the little moments. It’s given me purpose, contentment, and even more reason to try to be the best person I can be. 

It’s motherhood, and it’s wonderful and beautiful and equally as messy. 

And it’s here.

It’s finally, finally here. 

It feels good to be back, 

XO. Mary Alexia