The Good, the Bad and the Ugly...

DISCLAIMER: this is going to be long but is not meant to be a lengthy list of my woes! It is simply to share what's been going on with me, as some of you may have noticed, I haven't been quite myself lately :) See previous post for the intro to this one.

I loved being pregnant. I loved the fact that I was pregnant. I loved being big and having a reason to be! And no, I didn't have a dream pregnancy...it took some time and some hormones to get me pregnant and keep me that way. It took me 16 weeks to get over morning sickness. I had the usual aches and pains. But despite that, I just LOVED the pregnant state! It was so special to nurture this long awaited baby, anticipate his arrival, and find out what all those women had been talking about all my life :)


And the birth went pretty well too. During the following week I felt like I was recovering well and although breast-feeding was tough, everything else seemed ok. However, 10 days later, I began experiencing horrible pain and after a quick doctors visit, was told I had an infected fistula (a small tunnel that can develop anywhere in the body). Mine happened to be "down below" shall we say, not a great place to get one right after giving birth but probably the reason for it!

I was taken into surgery that day, where the doctor performed a fistulectomy as well as some other minor procedures to get me back to normal (I won't go into details. Google it if you want!). What I didn't know was that the recovery from this type of surgery is HORRIBLE, extremely painful for an extremely long time. Ignorance is bliss, and I must say, I'm glad I didn't know what the next months held. I was just happy to have the issue dealt with so quickly, thanks to my Dad who happened to be visiting to see Jack and who got me in with a colleague of his very fast. (On a side note, all the doctors and nurses at St. Josephs were really great and even delayed the surgery so I could pump before having the general anesthetic!)


Thankfully, Mum was staying with us and helped Andre take care of me and Jack. The following weeks were a blur. I was in so much pain, I couldn't even walk to the bathroom by myself and trying to breastfeed was almost impossible, as I couldn't sit up at all. Bathroom visits were a nightmare (if anyone needs pointers on how to survive a fistulectomy and hemerroidectomy, I'm your girl!!) and I spent much of my time crying. Sad and pathetic, I know. Crying because of pain, crying because of baby blues, crying because I couldn't take care of the baby properly or enjoy him (his dislike of breastfeeding didn't help). I was such a mess. I used to jokingly say that I was flowing with milk and tears!

By week two I could walk by myself. Week three I developed mastitis and then a yeast infection from the antibiotics (five weeks later I was still battling yeast which made breastfeeding even harder). Week five, Mum left to go back to IL...scary times! But we managed. Week six saw another bout of mastitis, but slight improvement in pain. I was down to Motrin every four hours rather than the strong stuff! I saw both my doctors that week and both were unhappy with my progress, saying that I wasn't healing well. Sitz baths were still the order of the day! Mastitis again at week seven; breastfeeding was still a battle and by then Jack was being treated for reflux, poor little thing. One HUGE blessing around this time was that he slept through the night at 7 weeks old! I saw my doctors again at week ten and was told that I still wasn't healed from the birth OR the surgery. Things were just taking a long time to get better. Rather discouraging. At this point we went up to Peoria for a month, which was great. It was just encouraging to be with Mum and be looked after :) (thanks Mum for taking care of us).

I stopped breastfeeding at week eight, pumped for two more weeks and then put him on formula exclusively. This was probably one of the most emotionally difficult decisions I've ever had to make; don't ask me why, it just was for me. But we both did MUCH better once the Battle of the Breast was over!!

By week twelve I could manage stairs without too much pain and was able to sit upright with more ease. Andre also was doing the early morning feeding which enabled me to get a full night's sleep and I think this really helped my energy level and recovery (thanks Husbie for doing this for me!).


I am now at week 15 and saw both doctors again last week, after returning home to Atlanta. Both said things are certainly better, not healed yet (not sure why it's taking so long) but getting there. They're estimating another two months of recovery at least. The pain is now much more manageable and I was even able to go for a short slow walk on Friday (thanks Hannah, for ambling with me!), as I was finally cleared to do light exercise.

So there you have it.

It's probably been the most joyous and the most difficult three months of my life. Emotionally and physically. Certainly physically. There were many days of frustration and anger and disappointment in what I was experiencing, not getting to enjoy my baby as I had so looked forward to. I kept asking myself what the Lord could possibly be trying to teach me (going through this experience better result in some darn good spiritual fruit, I thought!). I was frustrated at myself for not enduring with more patience and fortitude. I still don't have the answers to all that, and feel like I'm only just coming out of the fog anyway. I have learned to just pray that somehow he would use this in my life and for his glory. Not sure how, but those are the words that keep coming to mind. I think one thing I can honestly say, is that the Lord sustained me through this experience and just knowing he loved me and cared about each tear I cried, helped me through it.


I don't write this for sympathy, honestly. That's why I decided to only share this now, rather than in the midst of it. I can truly say I'm doing MUCH better. Praise the Lord for that. I just wanted to write about my life in the midst of a shadow time. It's not all sunshine and roses, being a grown up! And everyone goes through their own difficult times, this just happened to be one of mine.

And I am so in love with my little boy, now that I can focus on him more. He is such a joy and has been the high point of the last three months (I share these photos to show what we've been doing most of the time...lying on the bed!).

If anyone's still reading, thanks for doing so, friends. And thank you too, to all of you who knew some of what was going on, for your encouragement and prayers and meals and love. I have been so blessed by so much support and help.

P.S. Can we say C-section next time?!!!