From the Depths

One month of him. One of the best and worst months of this mama’s life. The dichotomy is physically painful and heart wrenching. What I would give to have the “regular” experience of postpartum and experience the first month of my son’s life in a “normal” way. Not side by side with a brain tumor diagnosis and surgery. He joined us at 8:26 pm on 12/31/24 8lbs 10.3 oz and 21.5 in., we kicked off the new year enjoying newborn snuggles as a family of 3. It was magical and amazing and full of more love than I knew was imaginable. We were healthy and we went to bed tired and excited for our journey of parenthood to start.
You never know when it could be your “before” and “after” day that changes everything you ever thought you knew about life. There is before and there is after this point in time and unfortunately the birth of my son will always be side by side with the worst day of my life. Waking up from a seizure 35 hours postpartum not remembering the birth of my son and being taken for every test and scan possible leading to the nightmare of the last month, the horrible dream that I’m still waiting to wake up from. My perfect version of postpartum never included the words seizure, stroke, brain tumor, craniotomy, or cancer, all of which should never have to be used in the same sentence as “35 hours postpartum” it didn’t include a 6 hour surgery 3 weeks PP, multiple days and nights spent without my baby boy, no driving, no independence, no time to process either of the two spectrums, fear of something happening while I’m holding my baby, fear of running my body too thin just by feeding my baby.

This is time I won’t ever get back and it’s time that feels like a nightmare and the most magical gift at the same time. The most painful dichotomy I could ever imagine. Where the reminders of the trauma are everywhere and are so deep that it takes my breath away. Thinking constantly of what could have been and what should have been and what everyone else gets during their first precious hours, days, and weeks with their newborn. And all that I didn’t and won’t. Where I went to bed assuming my life would look one way when I woke up and instead I’m in a horrible nightmare of survival and tears and hugs and “I can’t imagines”. Anointings of the sick and trying to understand God’s plan. Trying not to catastrophize but also enjoy every single moment while it’s here. Trying to be thankful for the birth of your son and not mourn that you spent 8 of his first 27 days of life in a hospital room. Being so so thankful that it’s you and not him. Traveling 7 hours to see a neurosurgeon 4 days PP while trying to figure out how to feed your baby. Being told it’s not safe to drive and it’s not safe to be alone with your newborn or be too tired because of the risk of seizures. Scheduling your newborn’s photos around when your skull will be cut open. Leaving your 3 week old baby boy for 2 days to have a 6 hour brain surgery to remove something that could become fatal and take away his mommy.

And unfortunately both of these life-changing experiences don’t get to be separate. They don’t get to happen at different times and be handled and processed on their own and it doesn’t seem fair. But, it’s a new month and I’m beyond grateful that the surgery went well and I have a healthy growing boy, it doesn’t mean that I don’t wish things were different. I don’t want to have a brain tumor, i don’t want to be retraining the left side of my body to function, I want to be his mom, I want to be able to hold him and watch him grow and be side by side with him the way I’ve always imagined I would be.

But I got to hold him today and i got to see how much he’s grown since yesterday so for that i will thank God and say a prayer that i please get to do that for the rest of his life. This month would not have been survivable without the love and support of our friends and family and medical teams, so thank you to everyone who has helped us through, brought us food, soothed him, or just said a prayer. We are forever indebted to you. 🫶🏼 it’s not over yet, but here’s to a better tomorrow. I’ll love you forever. Aslong as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

-2/1/2025. 8 days post op. 32 days postpartum