Motherhood: The Plot Twist I Never Saw Coming

Navigating infertility, early birth, and rediscovering myself as a new mom

If you had told me a few years ago that I’d be writing about my journey to motherhood, I probably would’ve laughed…then cried…then poured myself a large glass of wine. You see, we were told it wouldn’t happen. Not “naturally,” anyway.

Historically, I was on the fence about having kids. Very apathetic to the idea—I could have them or I could not, but either way, I’d be okay. But, I always thought if I were to get pregnant one day that I’d have one of those cute, predictable motherhood stories. You know, the kind where you decide it’s time to try, and boom—a baby magically appears nine months later. However, we all know life be lifeing and nothing is ever quite as easy as it seems.

The journey to motherhood snatched my [hypothetical] wig and sent me into a tizzy, WHEW! But, there is healing in sharing my story and even if I can assure just one person they aren’t alone, this will be well worth it. 

Now, this won’t be a polished, picture-perfect version of motherhood, but it will be real and raw, so, let’s get into it. 

Note: Before we do, I want to include a trigger warning as my journey does include a very traumatic birthing experience. Please skip the section titled "Will I Make It?" if you would rather not read that part of the story <3

“What Do You Mean I Can’t Have Kids?”

Let’s rewind to a conversation I’ll never forget. 

It was a few months after my open abdominal myomectomy—a surgery I had to remove some pretty big fibroids [and what I thought was going to be a great aid in my fertility journey]. Following recovery, I had to go in for a hysteroscopy to take a look at my uterus and ensure there was no scarring left from the myomectomy. I went in optimistic as earlier scans showed that all of my fibroids were successfully removed and my uterus was looking healthy. 

Now, picture me waking up after the hysteroscopy—in a recovery room [with other patients], still groggy from anesthesia. Bright lights and white sheets, my eyes were panning the room to locate my husband [then fiancé] and do a scan of my body to ensure everything was still in tact. And most of it was, except for what felt like the most important part—my tubes. 

“Your procedure went so well,” the doctor proclaimed. “All of the fibroids have been removed successfully and we didn’t find any leftover scar tissue from your myomectomy.”

WHEW! A big sigh of relief until my joy was interrupted by:

“But, both of your tubes are closed so it’s unlikely you’ll be able to conceive. You’ll probably have to do IVF, but your fertility doctor can talk you through your options.”

Following those words, she abruptly walked out of the curtained section of my "room" and went over to her next patient.

I was STUNNED! Completely gutted. In the matter of seconds my excitement was snatched from me and went directly into sadness, anger, guilt, and confusion. I didn’t know whether to cry, scream, curl up in a ball or all of the things simultaneously [spoiler alert: I did all three at some point].

Was my body broken? Why wasn’t the doctor more gentle with this news? Now that I finally felt ready to be a mom, could I now not have children? Were past decisions to blame? Was saying “I’m not sure I want kids” earlier on in my life too much of a manifestation? 

Tons of questions swirled around, and a lot of guilt. I immediately called on God to calm my spirit, guide my heart and rest in faith that what was meant for me would [in His time] come to fruition. And if motherhood was not in the cards for me, I asked him to heal my heart and grant me the strength to live with that reality if it were so. 

With that, I completely rejected this news. I mean I was completely being delulu because no doctor could tell me what God had in store for me. 

The heaviness was real, but my husband and I decided to table the baby dreams for a moment and focus on our wedding [which was less than 6 months away]. I threw myself into planning, because if I couldn’t control my fertility, I was damn sure going to have the perfect floral arrangements.

We agreed that we would have fun for the next year or so and start family planning again following our real honeymoon trip to Greece in Oct 2024. 

The Honeymoon

Fast forward to our wedding and “mini moon” trip to San Diego. While we were high off of the wedding [and what was then the best damn night of our lives], we had to sit with the reality that our path to parenthood would not be an easy one or a possibility at all unless we wanted to go down the path of IVF [which the doctor said wasn’t a sure bet] or adoption [which we may actually do at some point down the line of we want more children]. 

I’ll never forget my husband telling me during the mini moon that he had resolved the fact that we may not have children and was at peace with it. Now, I love this sweet angel husband of mine, but it broke me to my core as I knew parenthood was something he dreamed of for himself his entire life. The man wanted 5 kids for goodness sake. “Was he settling for me?”

I knew that was all in my head [because we actually discussed all of this prior to walking down the aisle] but I still couldn’t shake the feeling. And, as usual, God had his hand all up and through this because I didn’t have to ponder this for too long.

Photo by Ashley Arden Photography

Surprise, You’re Pregnant!

A month after the wedding we were in full fledge packing mode as we were preparing to [temporarily] move to Charlotte, NC to save up for a house and be near family for a bit. With all the stress of a cross country move, I didn’t think much of my cycle being late. Pregnancy was literally the last thing on my mind because “the people said we couldn’t conceive, right?!” WRONG! 

For about a week after my missed period, I had the worst cramps I’ve experienced in my life. I mean they buckled me to my knees a few times. I was at a Burna Boy concert and physically had to sit for most of it because I couldn’t bear to stand. 

After days of Tylenol and heating pads, I decided to go to the ER after the cramps finally brought me to tears. “Am I okay?! If I am miraculously pregnant, could it be ectopic?” Yea, it was getting real. 

After some labs and a few hours of waiting, the doctor came in with some news:

“We are still looking at labs, but I do have some news. You’re pregnant!”

WHAT?! My husband and I looked at each other in disbelief and then nervously laughed. Our faces went from shock to joy to mild panic in record time. “Were you not expecting this news?” the doctor asked. HELL NO, we weren’t sir. We let him know what the fertility doctors told us and he congratulated us. 

Once he left the room, our jaws were on the floor! I immediately thought, “I cannot do this right now, we have wayyyyyy too much going on!” And then, in a split second, a feeling of calm came over me and I looked at my husband and his face of reassurance made any fear in that moment wash away. 

Smooth Sailing—Until It Wasn’t

I say “in that moment” because due to my age [over 35] my pregnancy was considered high-risk and geriatric. So, while my pregnancy itself was pretty much smooth sailing [with the occasional nausea in the first trimester] I still was moving with caution and nervousness throughout. 

And then it came, my worst fear—preeclampsia. I had taken baby aspirin during my pregnancy to help combat it [I honestly don’t think it helps, obviously lol, but that is my experience]. I felt great and was confused when my blood pressure began to spike around 30 weeks. Although they hadn't diagnosed me with preeclampsia just yet, my doctor’s visits became more frequent [2-3 times a week], the baby monitoring became more intense, had a few overnight hospital monitoring stays, but I was sureeee I’d be able to make it to my scheduled c-section at 37 weeks. 

On my last day of work before the start of my maternity leave, my blood pressure had spiked up to 160s/100. My boss joked that the baby may come early but I still had 2-3 weeks to go before the c-section, surely she could wait. Yea, right. I closed my laptop and called the nurse triage to see if they wanted me to come in for monitoring as I had done a few times previously. They did, but this time the routine went a little differently. I didn’t think much of it until, instead of wrapping up and discharging me, the nurse said, “the doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

Doctor: “So, with your blood pressure getting higher and you’re now at 35 weeks, I suggest that we deliver baby soon.”

Me: “When, like next week?”

Doctor: “No, tonight!”

I almost panicked [well, I did], but my AMAZING sisterfriend and doula, September Moon Doula, prepared us both so much for this very moment. While she couldn’t be there with us in person due to the date shift, she was on the phone with us and the doctors every step of the way. 

[Note: when I say God’s timing is always the right time. My good sis was going to be on a plane to Paris the following day, so, with us having baby on this particular day, she was able to be right there with us virtually until the wee hours of the night. Forever and ever grateful for her].

My husband rushed back home to grab everything we’d need for our stay and got back right in time as we were prepping for the c-section. Big smiles, prayers, reassurance filled us until it was go-time…and that carried me through to what was to be the most traumatic experience of my entire life. 

"Will I Make It?"

TW: This section does include a graphic description of my traumatic birthing experience. Please scroll down to “Bringing Baby Home” to skip this section. 

Epidural is in. My bottom half is numb but my top half is shivering in the cold, bright, white room. My husband is to my right making me laugh and keeping me calm. The anesthesiologist was [I believe] to the left of me and also keeping me distracted and calm. She made sure I had more blankets to help with the shivering [in addition to the room being 60 degrees, apparently the epidural can make you shiver]. 

Not sure how much time had passed, maybe 30 minutes…could have been an hour. or more After the tugging and cutting, my baby made her way into the world, fist in the air, crying and looking healthy! I immediately started sobbing. My miracle Juneteenth baby! All I cared about in that moment was seeing her sweet face. 

While the nurses got her together and the doctors began to sew me up, I felt so much joy. Seeing my husband hold her and getting to feel her against me made it so real. 

But, in the background, I could hear some slight commotion from the doctors, but all seemed to be well. They sewed me back up and I was cleared to go back to the recovery room.

While there, my sweet nurse was so thorough and checked in on me every 5-10 minutes or so. During one of the check-ins she immediately said she was going to call the doctor back as I was bleeding a bit heavy. 

In the matter of seconds, there were tons of people in my space. Anesthesiologist, doctors, nurses. People are calling out to the nurse to make an order for pints of blood and other fluids I cannot think of at the moment. I was completely oblivious to the severity of what was going on [sounds weird when we are talking about pints of blood being ordered]. But, because I still couldn’t feel my lower half or see any of the blood that I was losing myself, I was just sitting back and letting the doctors do their thing. They were so kind, so calm, and so careful with me. They saved my life. 

Y’all, come to find out I was having a severe postpartum hemorrhage and they had to work QUICK! Within the hour I was being wheeled to have a second procedure with the interventional radiologist to locate and stop the uterine artery that was causing the bleeding. 

As soon as I entered that room, they were ready to put me under but I HAD to send a text to my husband to let him know I was okay, I was going to be okay, and that God had us all! I meant that with my whole heart and I knew I had no choice but to come out of this on the other side—I begged and pleaded it. The thought of not making it back to the two of them haunted me.

While I was under, my husband had to sit for hours in a room without knowing what my status was. The nurses were checking in, but I was still in surgery. Because he was able to see how much blood I was losing, he wasn’t sure of what the outcome was going to be and was starting to have to imagine or plan for a life without me [this still makes me cry and gives me chills to this day]. He still can’t tell me the full story. 

I made it out of this second surgery, back to the recovery room and then eventually to the room where I would be for the remainder of my stay. As soon as my husband walked in and saw me, he broke downnnnn. And even still, in that moment I couldn’t fully process what had just happened to me. Even after being told by nurses that I lost ¾ [THREE-FOURTHS] of the blood in my body and a few of my doctors basically saying “it’s a miracle you’re here with us,”—I still was not connecting with it [it later hit me like a ton of bricks]. When I would describe my delivery experience to my friends and family, I would quickly say “oh yea I had a hemorrhage, but I'm fine now” and continue talking as if it weren’t a thing.

If this whole postpartum hemorrhage wasn’t enough, I was in the hospital another 6 [yes, SIX] days because my blood pressure was not stabilized and kept spiking. In the midst of this, I was trying to breast feed a few times and pump when I could, but it was all just too much. [Also, had no clue that breast milk comes from blood, so mine was taking a bit of time to fully come in since I lost so much blood].

More than a whirlwind of an experience, but I thank God for keeping me and my sweet baby who, although was born prematurely, did not have to spend any time in NICU, which really stunned us all. And the irony of it all was that she was cleared to go home before I was [we all stayed the 6 days together of course]. 

Oh Sh*t, You’re a Mom Now

When I finally got the green light to go home, I was full of joy but nervous as hell. Were these people really sending us home with the baby, alone?! Was someone going to come check in on us or give us a hand book? Was there someone I could have on speed dial to ask any and every question that pops up?! Ya girl was STRESSED! And on top of that I was still taking blood pressure medicine three times a day and healing from TWO surgeries.  

Those early weeks were a blur—sleepless nights, endless feedings, and more Googling than I’d like to admit. My husband was the real MVP, taking care of both me and baby every single day so that I could focus on healing. I kept waiting for a moment when I’d feel like I knew what I was doing, but that moment took a while [hell, I still feel like I have no clue most days LOL]. But, this beautiful baby girl has taught me to just be present. Watching life through her eyes has been the biggest blessing.

I’m forever grateful for my village. Those who showed up and physically took care of us, cooked us meals, sent us meals, necessities, and care packages. Those who checked in, sent messages, prayed for us, gave virtual hugs, talked me off the ledge, ALL OF THE THINGS. Y’all carried me through [and still do] more than you know. 

Who Am I Now? [read: WTF is going on?!]

Motherhood changed me to my CORE, you hear me?! It has stripped me down bare a** naked and rebuilt me, revealing pieces I didn’t know existed. For a while I sat in a daze trying to recall who this person was. I was a shell of myself.

I cried every single day for close to a month once I got home. From the reality of surviving everything I just endured, to the hormones, to the healing, to the stripping of old and rebuilding the improved…I was spent! My doctor told me I was on the borderline of postpartum depression. I didn’t think there was a light at the end of what felt like a very dark tunnel. Through therapy, check ins with my doctors, self-reflection, the immeasurable amount of love from my husband and my loved ones, and seeing this beautiful little girl's face everyday, I am so so thankful to have made it to what feels like [my version] of the light. 

I’ve grown to absolutely adore this version of me. I’m softer in some ways, tougher in others, and infinitely more confident and secure in my boundaries [I could still work on my patience :)]. It’s taught me to let go of people and things that don’t serve me and accept what’s meant for me with open arms. It’s allowed me to surrender and be okay operating in the unknown [in some cases]. It’s made me flexible but firm. It’s allowed me to celebrate the small wins while embracing the imperfections—standing tall, head held high in who I am. I’m very much the “I don’t play about my kid” kinda woman, but now I’m also the “don’t play about me.” 

Every day, I’m discovering a new layer of myself. Some days, I’m a superhero. Other days, I’m barely hanging on. But every day, I’m grateful. Because as much as motherhood has turned my life every way but loose, it’s also made it fuller than I ever thought possible.

I’m still very much figuring it out one day at a time [on the flyyyy if you will]. I’m learning to give myself grace in the evolution of Tay. 

Repeat after me: You are that girl. Been that girl. Still that girl. And will always be THAT GIRL!

Lessons From the Journey So Far

The biggest thing I’ve learned? Nothing—absolutely nothing—can prepare you for the reality of motherhood. People can give you all the advice in the world, you can read all the books and blogs, but until you’re in it, you cannot truly fathom what this entails. And that’s okay because that’s also the beauty of it. You figure it out as you go. 

While nothing can trulyyy prepare you for this reality, if you do nothing else, please get a doula if you can! I was immensely more prepared than I would have been during my pregnancy journey and felt confident going into my delivery even with all of the challenges that came with it. I knew what questions to ask, what to look for, when to push back and when to allow things to flow. Thank you, thank you forever Fe! 

Another lesson—nothing matters more than you and your new family. Protect it at all costs. Stand up for it and don’t cower to make others comfortable if it means discomfort for you and yours. There’s a little one counting on you and that is what matters! 

And, and, and…mama, please take care of yourself. Motherhood is hard and can quickly burn you out. Take up coloring, read your favorite book, get into therapy, get dressed even if it’s to sashay around the house, surround yourself with people that make you feel good, SHOWER, laugh, cry, but most importantly do things that make you feel good…more like "you."

To the Moms (and Future Moms)

To the moms out there who feel like they’re winging it: you’re not alone. None of us have it all figured out [if you do, tell me the secret]. But every day, we show up. We love, we nurture, and we give everything we have. That’s more than enough.

I want more of us to speak up about our journeys because as much as they are unique in their own way, it helps to know you're not alone and provides this unexplainable feeling of being understood on a deeper level. 

And to those who show up for us, pour into us, remind us that we are more than our identity as a mom, and give us grace—an immense amount of gratitude to you!