When I was pregnant with my first child, I was out to dinner with my now ex-husband and two of his friends. We were discussing our unborn son when one of the friends referred to him as the "devil's child" and suggested that we toss him into a fire after he is born.
It's been almost 7 years and I still remember that. I also remember my son's father not doing anything about it except laugh.
I got married at 18 and had my son at 19. My husband is almost 20.
I went to the doctor's office on my due date and was told that I had preeclampsia and had to be induced for the wellbeing of my child. While I was in the middle of pushing, they though the monitors were confusing our heart beats. They were wrong. My son had no heartbeat. I felt something was wrong, but the doctor kept dismissing my fears and acting like my son was fine. I kept telling her that something was wrong and to get him out of me.
The doctor just looked at me and said, "What do you expect me to do? How do you expect me to get him out?" I begged her for what felt like forever to just cut me open and take him out. She refused.
When he finally came out, the cord was wrapped so tightly around his neck that it snapped and he lost a lot of blood. He had a seizure. He didn't breathe for over 5 minutes and he was a deep blue/grey. They had to resuscitate him and rush him to another hospital where they had a higher level NICU. I didn't get to hold my baby for over 3 days because he had to be on a cooling pad for HIE and monitored for seizures.
All because a cocky doctor wouldn't listen to me. Fuck that doctor.
During my entire pregnancy, I planned for a smooth and natural birth. But when I went into labor, I was having full blown contractions and not dilating. So I had to have an emergency C-section, which ended up saving my son's life, since the umbilical cord was wrapped around his throat four times.
After hours of pain, I posted on Facebook that my son had arrived and that I had an unplanned C-section. One woman responded with, "You got off easy, bitch. You're not a real mother until you give birth like a real woman."
She had no idea how much pain I went through for that surgery to save my son's life. And now, a year later, I can barely walk because they accidentally hit a nerve on my back during the spinal block. Yet to this day, I feel like I've failed as a mother for not giving birth like a "real woman."
When I was 20, I learned from my stepfather that my mom had an abortion when I was two. Shortly after I found out, I confronted her about it.
What she said will ring clearly in my mind until the day I die:
"Well, I certainly wasn't going to make that mistake twice!"
My mom once told me that before I was born, my paternal aunt wrote her a letter saying that because I was conceived out of wedlock, I was not loved by Jesus and "would ultimately be doomed to hell."
I don't actually believe in heaven or hell, but it's still not very comforting to find out that one of my close family members feels this way about me.
I wish my mom had kept this story to herself.
My husband was driving us to the store one day, and I asked him to roll up the window because the wind was blowing my hair too much.
He responded, "With a fat ass and fat stomach, why would you worry about your hair?"
I was pregnant with our first child at the time.
I haven't felt comfortable naked around my husband since. It's been thirty years.
I have two daughters. They are my life and I love them to death. The fact remains, however, that having children changed my body. It has made me so insecure, but I've been trying to embrace body positivity for myself.
I was recently on the phone with a dear male friend, and he was talking about his ex-girlfriend who had a child. He referred to her stomach as "disgusting", "vile", "revolting" and "strange".
It was like all the confidence that I had been building suddenly fell. I can't stop thinking about it.
I gained a lot of weight with my pregnancy, so much that my brother in law made a joke that I had jowls like a bulldog.
When I was about eleven, my mother took me to visit her parents. They were emotionally and verbally abusive when she was growing up, and she still constantly seeks their approval. She wanted to show off her golden child so that her parents would have an opportunity to find something good in her.
We ended up in a discussion where my grandfather told me, "It's impossible for you to make good decisions because your brain isn't fully developed. You'll be making bad decisions until your mid-twenties." He added that I would probably be pregnant a few times and that I would borrow (and owe) him money between then and brain maturity time.
He was wrong, but I still remember him saying that.
My pregnancy was not easy, and afterwards we followed the doctor's orders to abstain from sex for six weeks after I delivered. We waited like eager teenagers, and once I was cleared by the doctor, we could hardly wait to get our hands on each other.
The sex was painful. I tried to get through it, but couldn't, and finally I had to call it quits. "Stop," I said.
"Not until I'm finished."
I hear it every time now, in the back of my mind. A growl of need I couldn't meet, but had to anyway.
"Not until I'm finished."
Has anyone ever made a fleeting comment about you that immediately became tattooed onto the front of your brain for all of eternity, impacting your self-perception and self-worth? Whether it was an offhand comment made by someone you love and respect or a fleeting declaration by someone you barely know, we share the moments that stick.
