You Don’t Know Failure Till You Have Kids

That was just a small taste compared.

I have always cared for other people and worked hard to please them, down to a fault.

My biggest dream was to care for and love my children. When I found out I had PCOS and that it would be harder to conceive, I felt the first real pang of failure — my body wasn’t even properly functioning for the most basic thing the world gave people the power to do — reproduce.

The realisation that my body would ignore my efforts to keep a healthy weight and then conceive felt like a slap in the face by mother nature. And how I only found out at the age of 28 that I had it.

Months would go by and I had no menstrual cycle. Every ovulation test I took came back negative, so I stopped taking them. I was stressed out at work and stressed out about my own body.

Still, I had hope. My doctor, an exceptionally good one at that, got me on medication and started the whole process to get me the fertility treatments I would need in order to conceive.

But before I started the first step of a very long and stressful process to get pregnant involving not just my husband, but dozens of medical experts, a miracle happened.

I fell pregnant.

At first, I was ecstatic. I cried as I called my husband who was on the train to work when I took the test.

But I didn’t allow myself to become excited for long. This was just the first of many miracles that needed to happen in order to have my baby.

We are all aware of the rough statistics that one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage and that it usually happens in the first 12 weeks. We know that women who have PCOS have an increased likelihood of miscarriage or complications during pregnancy and/or labour. The odds were stacked against me and I was a nervous wreck.

Then, as I entered the second trimester, I felt more hopeful. I announced my pregnancy on Facebook and I started planning a little bit more actively. In the second trimester, I truly enjoyed my pregnancy — I bought maternity clothes and had that pregnancy glow.

I felt beautiful.

Failure At Birth

On February 20th, 2019, our little bundle of joy was born. Andriel was and is perfect.

But that feeling of failure crept up on me again.

I felt it before I fell pregnant, and I felt it again when I went into labour. My baby had meconium and he had to come out quickly. He was in distress and his heartbeat was dropping. It took an hour from the minute I entered the hospital till he was born. I needed to be with him, but he was swiftly taken away very quickly to ensure his lungs were clear. A few minutes later, I was able to hold him and greet him, but again, not for very long.

My body stopped contracting after Andriel was born and the placenta still needed to be delivered. I had to leave my son to go into emergency theatre to have it surgically removed. That took me away for over 2 hours and all I could think about was Andriel, my baby, whom I couldn’t yet enjoy because my body once again, didn’t do its job.

Failure At Home

Andriel was a small baby. Health experts reassured us that he would remain healthily small for the first few months of his life. But we didn’t know there was another issue that would cause him to not only struggle to gain weight but lose it, too.

I had no idea my son had tongue-tie until an amazing lactation consultant was referred to us — after being told Andriel was fine, time and time again by various doctors and health professionals. Even in the beginning, I didn’t think anything was wrong, until one day I noticed I could see his ribs, his arms were like sticks, and he lost colour in his cheeks.

The guilt I felt was immense. How I had missed it. How I had not had that maternal instinct that something was off straight away. How I had not insisted sooner that someone checked his tongue.

Fear of Failure

I had scary thoughts. I envisioned falling down the stairs and dropping my baby. Images flashed of Andriel, my fragile newborn, hitting the stairs, one by one, as he clumsily tumbled down them in slow motion.

I felt sick at the scenes that entered my mind. I would cry and tell myself off for even thinking them. I had no idea where they came from. It was simply horrific to go through but I couldn’t share this with my husband for I thought he would cuss me out for even having these thoughts, let alone speaking of them out loud and putting them out to the world.

And then it happened. As I was walking down some wet steps while on holiday, I slipped with Andriel in my arms. No one will understand the panic attack I had. Andriel was fine — he was not hurt, and in fact, seemed unphased by the event. But I shook with nerves and wept for what seemed like hours while my sister and mother tried their best to restore calm in me, probably confused at the severity of my panicked reaction.

I blamed myself for having the intrusive thoughts until I found out it’s actually quite common for new mothers to experience them. My friends told me of their visions, about how they imagined abandoning their child, or the baby falling out of the window.

Failure to Sleep

I felt like a failure when I was emotionally unavailable for him because I was so sleep-deprived since Andriel couldn’t sleep on his own and had to be on me most of the time.

I fear that Andriel might have been affected by my moodiness when he was just a few months old.

I once became so consumed by anger as I dragged myself upstairs to soothe my again-awake baby for the billionth time that when I placed the pacifier back into his mouth, I did so brusquely, and it made Andriel cry.

Devonte, my husband, reacted as harshly as I did with Andriel by telling me to get a grip on myself. The feeling that I was failing motherhood was the biggest I have ever felt, for I was falling into dangerous territory where one action could make the difference between a mother who loves her child or a mother who hits her child.

Failure At the Smallest Things

I go through phases of feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed by the lack of time I have to do the most basic things. I feel like a failure when I have to ignore my son so I can cook. I feel like a failure when I throw french fries in the oven for the 3rd day in a row so I don’t have to spend too much time away from Andriel.

I become frustrated when I don’t have the energy to play with my son when he's going through a clingy phase. I feel like a failure once again when I don’t feel like doing anything in the evenings once Andriel goes to bed because I’m too exhausted from the day.

Getting Over Failure

All of the above is true. But it would be really unfair of me if I didn’t speak of the positives and do this article justice. Every time I have felt failure, good has come of it.

Because love really does trump it all.

Yes, I still feel failure today, almost every day in some respects.

But as a mother, I must carry on.

As a woman, I must carry on.

As a human being, I must carry on.

Embracing Pregnancy

I might have dreaded going to the bathroom for fear of seeing blood in my underwear *every time*. But every time I went and it wasn’t there, I said a silent prayer of thanks and I felt immensely grateful.

Every day that passed and I put on weight, or when someone complimented me on the news or about how pregnancy suited me, I shone with joy. I fully appreciated the miracle that was being produced, thanks to my supposedly malfunctioning body.

I put my middle finger up at PCOS and thanked mother nature once again for siding with me.

Triumph At Birth

I went into labour on a Tuesday night. I started contracting lightly at about 10PM. I had been having strong Braxton hicks contractions on and off for days so I suspected these were once again fake.

At around 11PM they started feeling stronger but they were completely irregular in distance and in length. Again, I had felt them before, days prior, and they were fake.

My husband called the hospital at 1AM and they asked us to go in. I reluctantly agreed.

It was when we got in the taxi that I realised I was absolutely in active labour because my contractions were pretty much non stop by then. Oops.

We arrived at 1:45. Andriel Zander Osaretin was born at 2:54.

Yes, there were complications during labour, and yes, I had to have the placenta surgically removed.

But I barely lost any blood.

It was the quickest labour some of the midwives had dealt with — I took that as a compliment.

Andriel was small and thus my wounds were not too bad down there.

My husband secretly filmed the whole thing — and he gave me the film on our son’s 6 month birthday. I experienced joy in birth once again.

Proactive Comeback at Home

It took one week between finding out that Andriel had tongue-tie and getting the procedure done. I acted fast.

Andriel gained weight within days. His arms weren’t like sticks anymore. The colour returned to his cheeks.

Something I'd like to point out here too is that, through the entire process, Andriel was a bundle of energy, and it is probably why he lost weight — because he was an extremely active baby. The fact that not once did he show he was low on energy means that he was getting enough milk to keep that energy up, even if he wasn’t putting on weight. He also showed no signs of dehydration.

We have seen no developmental issues that could have been affected by his lack of weight gain then.

He has thrived all his life and continues to do so, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Conquering Fear of Failure

The fact I had intrusive thoughts was scary and I judged myself hard for that. But the subsequent research and communication with my friends brought confidence back. I learned a lot about a woman’s body and her hormone changes.

It also brought me closer to other mothers. I understood that I am not alone, no matter how lonely it can feel. I know who I can turn to next time and be sure that someone else has had similar thoughts and experiences — and that is comforting. This is why I write about it all — I want to reassure other mothers out there that they too are not alone.

I am here for you all.

Sweet Sleep

At first, I thought I could handle the sleep deprivation, and that my baby would lead in this aspect, but I was doing us both a disservice by assuming Andriel would know at such a young age how to sleep on his own.

I stopped complaining and I brought in help. The help we paid for was our way of problem-solving rather than enduring the pain. My only regret was not doing it sooner!

Sleep solved most of my problems — especially my feelings of worry and anxiety. I will never underestimate the power of sleep again.

Small Wins Count

My time-management has improved over time and I do feel somewhat organised today.

Even on days where I feel like I’m tripping over time, I look on the bright side. I have what I want. I have my son at home with me full time and I know this will benefit him when he grows up.

I am not under pressure to go back to work and I have learned a lot about what I want to do.

I write because of Andriel.

I may not have evenings because I go to bed early, so instead, I get up early. Mornings are by far the best time of the day and I’m still getting my 8 hours of sleep.

Takeaway

I am not special in the sense that I have suffered more or less than anyone else. I am human, and all humans struggle in one way or another.

In order to get through the hard times, I have to look at the positives, and I hope it can inspire others who have struggled to do the same because no matter what, there is always a bright side.

Being a mother is the hardest job in the world, but it is also the best job in the world.

Sylvia Emokpae, thinker and philosopher, is passionate about self-love and motherhood. See more work like this.

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