A Letter to My Laboring Self in 2017

Dear Jelina in augmented labor July of 2017,

I just want to hug you as you cry into the uncomfortable crinkly hospital pillow and tell you you’re not alone. That I got you. That your feelings are valid and that no, you’re not a failure. You’re the farthest thing from it.

You’re waiting for the second bolus of epidural since the first one failed, your husband and close friend sitting on the couch behind you. You’re unable to roll over to converse with them, or see a friendly face, since Killian’s heart rate would have a deceleration on your right side. So you’re stuck staring at the machines you’re hooked up to and the wall. Having breakthrough pain from the Pitocin induced contractions in a window on your belly/hip, and your left hip in excruciating pain since you were bed ridden most your pregnancy (which btw the nerves in both your hips never recover and are permanently damaged now).

I want to tell you that you shouldn’t have let your stubbornness go. You were educated, but didn’t listen to your instincts. You didn’t speak up for yourself, and your husband sure as shit wasn’t going to do that for you. When the nurse coerced you into allowing the doctor to break your waters, that was the moment you gave up your voice. You knew you didn’t want that to happen. You KNEW it wasn’t necessary, but you let them do it anyways.

You should have hired the doula, and the birth photographer, and had your placenta encapsulated. You should have researched postpartum doula’s more and hired one for after your sister leaves to go back to Washington state 2 weeks after Killian was born. I would tell you to research a lactation consultant and to build a relationship with them before you give birth.

But what I really wish is that this was common knowledge. That you SHOULDN’T have had to dig to find information on all of these wonderful support systems that you SHOULD have had. They should’ve been readily available to you and been provided with lists and resources from your OB and the hospital.

You shouldn't have been just another number.

You were dealing with so much from the HG pregnancy, that the birth was the one thing you were so desperately looking forward to, and you lost your voice.

But I want you to know that your experience led you to your passion. It led you to what sets your soul on fire.

That even though you felt traumatized and like your birth was a shit show, the compassion and support that ONE nurse showed you the last 4 hours you were in L&D, both before and after Killian was born, showed you what it’s supposed to feel like. Showed you how people are supposed to be treated when giving birth. And I would tell you to get a better picture with Lauren so you could properly remember her face. I would also tell you to specifically bring her a gift during your postpartum stay and have someone bring it to you so you could drop it off to L&D as a gesture for the gratitude you feel.

The anger you feel towards your birth is valid. But you use that anger as fuel into research. That anger led you to birth work where you found your calling. That anger eventually turns to sadness when realize all the little bits that could’ve completely changed the way Killian was born. Hindsight is always 20/20 though.

I want to tell you it takes awhile to heal from Killian’s birth, and that that’s ok. Everyone heals at their own pace.

I also want to tell you how proud of you I am. For utilizing your birth experience for something good. For being able to provide for others what you didn’t have: unconditional support.

You should be damn proud of yourself.

Love your face,
Jelina from 2021 💕