About

I created this site to get down on your level. Let me burp baby while you brush your hair a bit or kick your feet up. I’ll make two cups of coffee and we’ll sit to chat about postpartum mental health.

Keep scrolling to read my traumatic birth story. Maybe it’s similar to yours! And maybe it’s not, but both are okay.

What is Postpartum Brain?

To learn more about Postpartum Brain and watch our video, start here.

But I’ll give you the quick run down:

Postpartum Brain focuses on mom’s mental health in pregnancy, postpartum, and early motherhood. We seek to educate and encourage new moms, whether you’re a first time mom or a new mom of 5. We have your back.

Let’s take the guesswork out of postpartum and break the taboo of mommy mental health!

What You Should Know About Me

Three things you need to know right off the bat:
– I love being a mommy.
– I love being a wife.
– And I’m studying to be a perinatal therapist because I love helping moms . . . like YOU!

Living through the intensity of postpartum, I was lost, overwhelmed, terrified, and honestly unsure if I could be a mom.

Have you ever felt that way?

I scoured Google for a mom feeling that way, and I couldn’t find anyone willing to sit on my level and chat. The search results were covered in medical journals and clinical language. I didn’t understand a word in my sleep-deprived mindset.

I don’t want you to ever feel the way I felt.

That’s why I strive to use ordinary language. Words and phrases us moms can understand on a day when the baby cluster fed all night, the toddler won’t stop opening cabinets, and the preschooler is yelling for someone to play with her.

I want YOU to get something out of it.

I didn’t know what I was feeling or what made me feel better.

Putting a name to what I was feeling helped me tremendously.

Instead of screaming at my husband, I was experiencing postpartum rage.

Instead of crying every night my son had to be in daycare, I was dealing with postpartum separation anxiety.

I could name exactly what I was feeling, explain it to someone else, and seek resources to understand and overcome it.

But it took me awhile to research and find what to call my experience. And I want to make it easier for YOU, mama! I pray this site helps you along the way.

Random facts about me

• I have a sweet kitty named Stella, after A Streetcar Named Desire, and she has my exact personality.

• I am a believer and follower of God. All my kids have Bible names! (No, none of them are named Matthew, Luke, or John.)

• I ate a Subway sandwich every day during the last month of my pregnancy and smothered it in Subway mayo. I do not recommend this as I blame Subway mayo for my 10lbs baby.

• I love when it rains, and I run to the window in excitement when it’s snowing.

• I have to eat a bowl of oatmeal right when I wake up or else my day feels off and I get anxious.

• I try to live with no regrets, but I do often think about the what-ifs.

Send me an email with your coffee order in the subject line!

I’d love to connect with you!

20-Hour Labor & Failure to Progress

It was part of my therapy to write out my birth experience, start to finish, to cope with the trauma surrounding my son’s birth.

So I sat, handwriting it into a black journal with a black ballpoint pen.

I sat in the parking lot of a Best Buy for an hour each Wednesday before my therapy appointment, writing directly to my son.

(This was the start of Postpartum Brain before I ever owned a domain!)

The Tax Return Broke My Water

I had officially given up on trying to induce myself. By the time Christmas passed, I’d given up on hoping you’d come in 2019. I’m not sure why I was so obsessed with you coming in 2019 — probably because of that tax return. 

I think also I wanted to KNOW when to expect you. I’m not good with surprises (which is probably why God gave me c-sections for the rest of my babies, so it’d be scheduled). 

Your due date rolled around, and I fell asleep, never making it over to Grammy’s to do laundry. Instead, Daddy and I relaxed at home; then, we went to my classroom to finalize lesson plans and print the letter announcing my maternity leave.

Grammy ironically responded, “You need all the rest you can get!” Little did she know.

At 9pm, I finished reading Educated (the book your daddy got me for Christmas) and rolled over for bed.

BOOM. My water broke.

Just enough to know it was NOT pee. 

Daddy immediately went into “this is it” mode. He made sure Stella was fed, gathered the hospital bags, adjusted the thermostat, and grabbed our wallets and keys. We had already thought it was happening in early December, so we knew the routine.

But this time it was happening.

You were coming.

I was oddly calm. That surprised Daddy. We got in the car, buckled up, and I said “that tax return though”.

(I promise we didn’t have you just for the tax return.)

Did My Water Break Or Did I Just Pee?

We checked into the birthing center. I kept giggling as we waited in the lobby for the nurse to come get us.

Two days earlier I was here filling out paperwork for my induction, which was scheduled in two more weeks! Thank goodness I didn’t have to wait that long to meet you.

They took us back, gave us a room, and had me change.

First, they had to make sure my water had ACTUALLY broke and that I hadn’t simply peed myself.

They swabbed me and put the liquid on a test to see if two lines would pop up, confirming it was amniotic fluid.

The lines were there and they were bold.

The nurses kept saying how pronounced the lines were, that it’s uncommon to see them so clearly. My water had definitely broken.

But I was still 0 centimeters dilated. ZERO.

They decided the best course of action was a Foley bulb to put pressure on my cervix and dilate it further. Let’s get this show on the road, I thought.

I think they broke my water prior to that or maybe the bulb helped to break it. Either way, I remember my water fully breaking. I remember it VIVIDLY.

IT WAS A GUSH.

Spraying out, soaking the bed, and it would not stop.

The nurses double checked the amniotic fluid test because they thought my water hadn’t even broke yet prior to this. One nurse just said I had a LOT of amniotic fluid.

Your daddy thinks your head was acting like a plug and keeping all the fluid in. He’s so silly.

The Calm Before

The contractions were rather calm with the Foley bulb. I think it took 45 minutes or so to dilate me to 3 centimeters.

When I got up to pee, the nurse noticed that the bulb seemed ready. She tugged slightly, and it slid right out.

I watched Friends on the TV attached to my bed. The nurses had me on Pitocin to help move the contractions along. By now, it was 11pm, so they instructed me to get some rest.

Daddy and I were both asleep when nurses rushed in to adjust monitors and place an oxygen mask on me.

The Storm

It was 1am. Your heart rate had dropped.

I remember the oxygen mask on me and staring at your dad, trying to wake him with my eyes.

I was so scared.

More nurses came in. One explained the situation to me as I was trying not to cry. Daddy was awake at this time, sitting on the foot of his bed. Criss-cross applesauce.

I’m so in love with him.

Once your heart rate was stable, they gave me a sleepy med to help me rest. I was too scared to sleep in case your heart rate dropped again, but after the med I felt . . . goooooooooood.

Nice and loopy and . . . exhausted.

Daddy stayed awake to watch the monitors, making sure you were okay. That you’d be okay.

Should I Get An Epidural?

When I woke up at 8am, Daddy got some rest. I was dilated to a 5 and could feel the contractions growing stronger.

I wanted to go as far as I could without an epidural, so the nurse was helping encourage me with breathing techniques and birthing ball exercises. She showed me various positions to somewhat ‘lunge’ with my foot propped on the hospital bed. I think it was to encourage you to move further down.

(The next time they checked my cervix, they could feel your head, and they told us that you had hair!)

Soon, my contractions were progressively getting more uncomfortable. They hurt so bad that I was forgetting to breathe. Daddy held my hand and rubbed my back.

I asked for the epidural at this point, and the anesthesiologist took their sweet time getting to my room. My nurse, S, got in my face during every painful contraction as Daddy rubbed my back.

S scolded me to inhale and exhale, and I am so grateful for it. I’ll always remember and appreciate the nurses that went above and beyond for you and I.

The anesthesiologist finally came, and I got the giant needle placed in my back. AND IT WAS NOTHING compared to the contractions. It was such a weird sensation nonetheless.

It took a bit for the epidural to kick in. At first, it was only working on one side.

I could feel the medicine racing cold through my body as the anesthesiologist pumped more in, waiting for the other side to go numb.

It was 10am.

C-Section or Natural Birth?

I had been at the birthing center for 13 hours.

Your heart rate continued to drop during my contractions, so the nurses monitored it relentlessly.

Once the epidural set in, I was much more relaxed, cracking jokes and admiring Daddy in all this.

There still wasn’t a lot of progress in terms of dilation, so the nurse wanted me to move to get you further into the birth canal.

LET ME TELL YOU: the positions were disturbing.

Your poor dad had to witness it. Plus, he had to help me since I was unable to move my legs myself.

He and the nurse had to adjust my limp limbs. It’s not too enjoyable to hold your body up by your elbows when the bottom half of you is numb.

By 2:30pm, the Pitocin and positioning had allowed me to progress to 8cm but no further. The contractions weren’t dilating me as they should have. Instead, they were causing you stress and affecting your heart rate.

The on-call doctor and nurses brought up a c-section to us, warning me that it might be the only option.

AND I WANTED THEM TO DO IT — right there and right at that moment.

The (Somewhat) Emergency C-Section of My Traumatic Birth Experience

AND I WANTED THEM TO DO IT — right there and right at that moment.

I wanted you to be out, so you could be safe.

My body didn’t feel safe for you anymore.

But they waited. The nurses explained that it would be a last resort. 

Trying A Natural Birth First

The birthing center isn’t meant for c-sections. They had just recently renovated the building to include 2 surgical suites in case, but people didn’t go to the birthing suites to have a c-section. They didn’t even go if they were at risk for one.

It would be a last resort, but in that moment it felt like it was the only clear choice.

I couldn’t understand why the nurses didn’t see that.

While we waited, Daddy texted the family that our best option was probably a caesarean delivery.

He had been updating them the entire time, adding both sets of grandmas to a group chat. Their prayers and thoughts lifted us up. I could feel it.

Prepping For A C-Section

In anticipation for the doctor’s go-ahead, the nurses began preparing me for the c-section, taking out unnecessary IVs, handing me forms to sign, and explaining the process to Daddy and I.

They added fluid to my uterus at 2:45pm since my water had been broken for so long. Still, my temperature began to climb and I started to shake uncontrollably, my teeth chattering.

I remember debating whether or not to take out my earrings. The risk of wearing earrings during surgery is minimal, but it’s still present. At this time, I had 3 piercings in each earlobe, a rook piercing, and 4 cartilage piercings. That was a lot of earrings to take out with my shakes.

I wasn’t sure if I could even screw the ball off of my rook piercing, so I risked it. 

At 3:52pm, I sent a text to your grandma. My mom.

During my pregnancy, Daddy and I would always say snow meant that you were coming. We’d dream about bringing you home in the snow to see the Christmas lights that Daddy worked hard to put up on our small apartment balcony.

We sat there, admiring the snow out the window for you. God made it snow for you.

God made it snow for a few moments of peace.

Time seemed to be extended, or standing still, as we waited and watched the snow.

Looking back, the last texts I sent to your grandma were 4:02pm

(My temperature had climbed past 100 then.)

and 4:04pm

It was then that your heart rate declined.

Rushed To An Emergency C-Section

Your heart rate dropped to 64 bpm so quickly. In the blink of an eye really.

The nurses raced to disconnect my bed and monitors from the room’s, running me through the halls shortly after.

It was an emergency, and an emergency c-section meant your daddy wouldn’t be able to be with me.

Tremendous fear set in — fear for you and your health, fear of a major surgery, and fear that Daddy couldn’t be there with me.

I remember entering the surgical suite: what it looked like, how the equipment was already set out. I remember hearing voices from behind the sheet on my stomach and feeling alone.

The nurse that had been with me was doing an overview out loud of the situation, and I guess she said it wrong. I think she was new, but I also think she was nervous like me. Maybe it was her first emergency caesarean, too.

The anesthesiologist came to make sure everything was ready. My arms sprawled to the sides, outreached.

When we arrived to the OR, your heart rate had gone back up, so they were giving Daddy his scrubs and letting him come in.

His baggy blue scrubs. A mask that hid his moustache. And a mushroom cap.

Placing Bets in the OR

I remember searching the faces behind the masks of doctors, nurses, and anesthesia. None of them had Daddy’s blue eyes or his comforting smile. I needed him.

The fear became overwhelming and the sense of loneliness consumed me — I started to cry.

A pair of nurses tried to comfort me, but finally your daddy walked through the door. He sat on my right side to hold my hand, wiping away my tears and wearing his mushroom cap.

The ob then came in, and everyone made sure I couldn’t feel anything from my epidural. A nurse pressed my stomach gently as anesthesia double and triple-checked my IVs.

In order to keep me calm, the nurses placed bets on how big you’d be. They mentioned that they hoped I hadn’t bought a ton of newborn clothes and diapers. I said, “That’s okay, Target has a great return policy!”.

Even on drugs, Target is a priority.

Daddy guessed you’d weigh on the high side of 8lbs. I guessed the low side of 9lbs. And the nurses’ estimates ranged between our guesses. NO ONE guessed nearly 10lbs!

A Caesarean Birth

I felt weight from my left to right side: the incision.

They made the incision and warned that there’d be pressure as they squeezed you out.

4:20pm.
16 minutes from it’s snowing to Y O U .

The NICU Stay I Can’t Talk About

One day I’ll write about your time in the NICU, but right now I can’t bring myself to do so.

That’s the part that hurts the most of your birth story. The part I constantly go back to.