hey, postpartum.

It’s no shock that hormones are alllll over the place after you deliver, right? But some how it seems like it just sneaks up and smacks you in the face! I know that my hormones are going to be crazy for an undetermined amount of time, yet somehow I allow myself to feel guilty over the things that do not matter.

I’m gonna be sad. I have a daughter who died and now I have two living daughters…and no Kenley.

I’m gonna be happy. I have a beautiful new addition to our family.

I’m gonna be tired and anxious and stressed. My newborn is adjusting to life outside the dark womb. I’m anxious because I want my baby to stay alive and that’s a lot of pressure (even though it doesn’t seem like it to “normal moms”). I’m stressed because no one sleeps at the newborn stage and my nipples fucking hurt like hell because they’re both cracked from breastfeeding.

I have a giant bruise on my right arm from my IV. It continues down my elbow almost. It doesn’t hurt but dang.

I was given IV fluids after I went to recovery because I was so sick (puked up an entire puke bag of fluids lol) so I’m extremely swollen….look at this cankle. My toes and fingers are even swollen and it’s super uncomfortable. Some people say it takes 10 days for your body to get rid of IV fluids. Ugh.

I also have these weird new stretch marks on my stomach. They are above my belly button, go horizontally and they are about “—–” this big each. It’s the weirdest thing. I don’t care about having stretch marks, big fucking deal, but it just blows my mind the way they look.

I’ve also had my tubes tied. This has given me a bunch of mixed emotions. We spent so long trying to get pregnant on our own, and we knew it was possible because that’s how Landon (and surprise! Rowan!) was conceived, but now…now it’s not possible. Which is fine, rationally, because I’m done having children. 4 is enough for my body. 4 c-sections are plenty. 4 full term pregnancies. 3 living babies. It has been a long 3 years and I know that this was the best choice for us, but it’s so final.

The postpartum period of time is so awful. I’m pretty sure being a loss mom coupled with PP is just a cruel sick joke. There are so many things you feel guilty for, and about and still in the back of your mind you’re grieving your missing child. It’s awful; everything is amplified and exaggerated.

And, sometimes the baby you have…looks very similar to the baby you lost. And that is a whole other can of emotions.

Tomorrow Rowan has a weight check at her pediatrician. I’ve never been able to exclusively breastfeed any of my children, and this time…it’s working out that I can. She didn’t need NICU time and she latched like a champ in the OR while I was being sewed up! So, I want to try. If she has lost too much weight, though, I might throw in the towel and switch to formula because I’m pretty sure I will have no time to constantly be breast feeding. I don’t know. I’m not sure yet.

I feel proud of my body for producing milk this pregnancy and so far it seems to satisfy this cute little loaf of a baby girl. Tomorrow will tell what the plan is.

I love my children. I love Rowan. I am so thankful she is here alive. All that being said, life is unfair. And honestly pretty fucked up.

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