the one to do list with almost none of the boxes checked off

what i learned about motherhood (so far)

“What’s your birth plan?”

My husband Dave and I were sitting in the guest bedroom of our home the day before my scheduled induction.

Dave is all about realistic expectations: we need to know what to expect in order to prepare for whatever comes. It’s this mentality that shaped me as a small business owner; communicate all expectations without bullshitting your way through obstacles and challenges.

So in order to be prepared, I came up with the following birth plan:

• Delayed cord clamping for at least 60 seconds (the only thing we were able to do)

• No epidural

• Use peanut ball if needed (to help with dilation)

• If C-section, and hospital offers it, do a “friendly” c-section with transparent screen

• Use a bar and mirror during contractions

As for me, I am all about checklists. Go through my notebooks, planners, and the Notes app. I have a checklist for everything.

Nothing is more satisfying than ticking off a box on my checklist. It’s like scratching an itch. Super satisfying, because you finally got that thing that’s been sitting there for weeks figuratively gathering dust in the corner, done.

I always make lists with the intention to check off all the boxes, no matter how long it takes for me to finish something. I hate leaving things incomplete. When I start something, I want to see it through.

But this one, this “birth plan,” was the one list where nearly none of the boxes were ticked off.

Because everything I didn’t want to happen, happened.

When you operate your own mobile business, you quickly realize that you can’t control everything. You can’t control the no shows, the last minute cancellations, the missed communications. You can’t control the kids getting sick, and you sure can’t control the traffic. You are constantly solving problems, strategizing, making sure not only the team is taken care of, but also the clients.

So what made me think that I could control the circumstances surrounding the birth of my baby?

After all, my fertility struggles were real. We had gone through two completed (but failed) rounds of IUI before deciding to go through IVF (we took a three year hiatus after the second failed IUI). Coupled with a work environment that I was deeply unhappy with, I thought I would never be physically or emotionally ready to be a mother.

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I think in my head, I wanted everything to go the way I always imagined it would. I grew up hearing stories from my mom about her own birth story. She had a natural delivery with all three of her kids. She dilated quickly. Like within hours. Specifically, she gave birth to me, her firstborn, five hours after getting admitted to the hospital. And this was without an epidural. With her youngest, my brother, his delivery was even quicker. By the time she had him, she was a stay at home mom, and her mother and grandmother moved into the home to help her. She raised the three of us on breast milk. And that’s not all. Within two months, she was back to her pre-pregnancy size and weight. All three times.

I had this almost romanticized fantasy of giving birth to my own child, because I wanted my mom’s birth story to be mine. I didn’t want the epidural, the pitocin, and the possibility of a cesarean section? No way. Not me. Because my mom didn’t have to go through it.

So when my husband and I finally walked into the hospital, with our bags packed and feeling hopeful and excited, I had no idea how much my birth plan would diverge.

Because (surprise!) my mom’s birth story wasn’t mine.

In fact, I did end up getting the epidural (For the longest time I did not want one). My water broke earlier than expected (I could actually hear it pop) as my contractions ramped up. But I dilated around only 2-3 cm (10 cm seemed like a lifetime away, because I was contracting every 2-5 minutes). After 18 hours of labor, I was stuck at 3 cm with no progress. At this time, I was getting pitocin through the IV, and I was drinking tons of water, broth, eating red jello and nothing else. Oh, and a balloon was out of the question, because my water had already broken and there was a risk to using one.

And because my water broke too soon, I spiked a fever due to an infection, which resulted in my baby’s heart rate elevating. There was meconium. After my final cervical check, my obstretician was realistic, but firm: whether we decided to wait for further dilation or not, a cesearean section was necessary.

I decided to go through with the cesearean birth for my baby sooner than later.

The OR was prepped within 25 minutes as my husband quickly packed up our bags and I was wheeled out of the labor & delivery room. The anaesthesiologist asked what music did I want to listen to?

I said, lofi music. Eventually I switched up to the Beatles. Which was amusing because apparently, the surgeon (my regular obstretician) was wondering why were the Beatles were playing in the OR?

Our daughter was born at 8 lbs, 13 oz and 21 inches long about 20 minutes into my surgery.

“So you’re the little troublemaker!” I could hear the surgeon exclaim as we heard the baby’s first cry. That made me smile. Throughout my pregnancy, especially in my third trimester, I had been incredibly uncomfortable. For weeks I refused to believe what I was told: the baby was bigger than anticipated. Which turned out to be true for me.

The anaesthesiologist held a mirror above my head so I could see her. The tears welled up quickly. I couldn’t believe she was finally here.

When she was swaddled and placed near my chest, I told my husband: "She is perfect.”

“Congratulations!”

I tried to respond “thank you” to the doctors and nurses between the uncontrollable shaking I experienced while I was getting stitched up. I could barely hold the baby because the chills were so intense. I actually thought my teeth would break.

The four days we spent at the hospital were a blur, especially because there were days when I couldn’t determine what hour it was. The cluster feeding, the constant vitals checks, side effects from the antibiotics and intermittent sleep threw me off. That first time standing up after my surgery and immediately after the catheter was removed was a struggle. I was told to take a shower with special soap. Then I had to pump. I had to wake the baby every two hours to feed her. The mother baby unit had donor’s milk, which I used to feed her using the SNS device with an enteral tube and syringe. Two nurses were especially amazing; one during the day shift, the other at night. I know for a fact my hospital stay was that much more comfortable because of them.

I fell asleep without realizing it more times than I could count after our daughter’s birth, sometimes mid-scroll with my phone in hand. One time I woke up to my husband sitting next to me in the nursing chair, massaging my swollen foot.

The most surreal moment was when I got discharged from the hospital. As I was wheeled out of the unit with a baby in my arms and my husband walking next to me, I felt like this was happening to someone else.

We walked in a family of two, and within days, we were walking out as a family of three.

Our home was a welcome sight. My parents were already there. Soon our full time nanny arrived. She immediately got to work, insisting that I elevate my legs and rest in bed while she prepared pumpkin milk and a meal of seaweed soup and rice.

What I learned about motherhood (so far)

TL;DR version: for me, it wasn’t a “death” of who I was, it feels more like a rebirth.

For the first week postpartum, I asked myself why a “perfect” birth plan so important to me. Was it because I wanted everything to go exactly the way I wanted? At what expense? At whose expense?

I always referred to our mobile private practice, PJW Speech and Language Therapy, Inc. as my firstborn child. In some ways, it still is. There was fear, growing pains, hard lessons to be learned when it came to operating a small business. I heard so many “nos” and experienced rejection after rejection, while interviewing applicants, bidding on contracts, reaching out to insurance, school administrators, would be clients.

But there was also joy and excitement at each and every milestone reached.

Whenever a speech therapist tells me they are in the process of opening up their own private practice, or would like to, my advice to them is the same: if you’re looking to do this for a work-life balance, forget it. Whether you like it or not, you will get a thick skin.

When we welcomed Poppy (our sassy but lovable little English cream dachshund) this past Christmas season, there was a shift; now, we had a living creature depending on us for survival and companionship.

Child number two, perhaps?

My husband gifted me a mug for mother’s day this year, with the words “Dog Mom” (with a pawprint in the place of the “o” in “Dog”) and indeed, I did feel like a parent with the sleepless nights, catering to our pup, feeding her, cleaning up after her.

In each of the above scenarios, there were priorities we had to address, before even my own well being and self care time. These days, I don’t take my “off days” for granted. I value those visits to a cafe to catch up on emails, reading, and social media content over a cup of iced matcha latte or americano with the intention of doing some light shopping later.

Now, as a mother to a newborn daughter (I still can’t believe I’m a mom), I feel like I’ve experienced a “leveling up” of sorts.

I should’ve known that things wouldn’t go as planned.

I should’ve expected the unexpected.

And keeping an open mind is so important when it comes to welcoming a child.

The reason why I wanted such a “perfect” birth plan was because I wanted a beautiful birth experience; at least, what I deemed it to be beautiful in my own head.

During my hospital stay, I was able to come to terms with what I had to do in order to deliver my baby safely. And I was able to make decisions for myself without feeling rushed. And I am thankful to my husband, the doctors and nurses for letting me process things in my own time.

Everyone’s journey into motherhood is different, and just because mine went one way, doesn’t make it less important than someone else’s.

Do I regret the decisions I made to bring our daughter into the world? No.

Do I feel like there needs to be more conversations centered around motherhood, the changes it brings, emotionally, mentally, physically? Yes.

I am in awe of women who go back to work within a few months or even weeks after giving birth. I am presently breastfeeding and pumping around the clock, and I can’t imagine doing this in a classroom, an office space, or a car. Breastfeeding is a full time gig, and it’s not easy.

My birth story with my firstborn is far from perfect; we ended up having to do everything I did not want to do.

My birth story did not end up like my mom’s, but that is okay.

Because I have my own.