In October I developed a really bad case of mastitis. Unfortunately the doctor I was seeing kept brushing me off and just giving me more antibiotics without seeing me, despite my repeated complaints and attempts to be seen. By the time she finally saw me it had developed into a very large abscess. She was unsure if it had or not so she sent me to get an ultrasound that same day. The radiologist said I was probably just engorged and should come back the next week for a follow up ultrasound. This felt wrong to me but I (wrongly) trusted their judgement and went home to start another round of antibiotics. The next night the pain was unbearable. I was literally just walking around, at times pacing, in constant tears unable to think of anything other than the pain. I would rather give birth again and I did that ish naturally. My husband, Aric encouraged me to go to the ER, which is where they diagnosed the abscess and admitted me to have a procedure to drain it.

Of course this all happened on the same day Aric was supposed to be taking one of the most important tests of med school. Thankfully my surgeon was really nice and wrote him a letter which helped him get a waiver to take the test at a later date. A few days after that my surgeon cleared me for travel so we came to Texas so we could have help from my family with our baby while I recovered.

Unfortunately a week later I noticed a lot of increased pain and swelling and I ended up needing another procedure. A week later I had the same problem again so I had to have a more invasive/aggressive surgery since the first two were unsuccessful. They left a drain in which is super gross and annoying. It is essentially a tube coming from my breast with a little bulb at the end of it which collects fluid that would otherwise be filling the pocket where the abscess was. Whenever it gets full I have to empty it into a little measuring cup and record the time and amount of fluid. It’s nasty and only contributes to the negative feelings I have developed about my body.

This drain has also meant no holding my baby in my arms, no picking her up when she cries for me, no letting her fall asleep on my chest listening to my heartbeat like we both love. Not getting to be the mommy I want to be, have always dreamed of being, the mommy she needs and deserves. I’ve also not been able to get any “real” hugs from any loved ones. As terrible as the physical pain has been, the emotional has been far more excruciating.

I am also on a crazy milk pumping schedule to keep the breast as empty as possible. I pump every 2 hours during the day and every 3 hours at night. It feels like it is all I do. It also means I get very little sleep, only deepening the exhaustion that comes with being a new parent. This also makes healing take longer. To accommodate this schedule I’ve been sleeping on the couch so that my numerous alarms and my constantly getting up won’t wake my husband and baby. This makes me feel detached from my family which has led to a lot of loneliness. I deeply miss sleeping with my little girl’s bassinet right next to me, listening to her breathing and cute little sleep sounds in the night. I also miss feeling close to my husband and being able to be his little spoon.

My days feel so very heavy right now. The only moments of the day that I do not absolutely hate are those when my sweet girl is in my lap (the only way I can hold her for now) and the little moments my hero of a husband finds to try to remind me that I’m loved, beautiful, and still the me that I’ve always been. Those moments are why I have not completely crumbled.

I have learned many things from this experience so far (I know that it is unfortunately nowhere near over). The first thing I’ve learned is to not blindly trust medical professionals. I say this as a wife of a future doctor. I’ve watched as he and his colleagues have worked tirelessly and dedicated countless hours to their educations. I have nothing but respect for doctors, nurses, and the work they put into their careers. However, they are humans and therefore fallible. Some of them are just plain lazy, as was, I feel, the case with the doctors I originally saw. I believe that I was written off as an overly concerned new mother that didn’t understand her changing body. It’s important to trust your own instincts about your body and advocate for yourself. Don’t let doctors make you feel crazy or silly for being worried about yourself (as mine did). Seek second opinions when you need to. I have also learned that I have a lot of wonderful people who truly love me. Sometimes it takes a crisis for you to realize how loved and supported you are. I don’t know what I would have done without my little village of support. This is especially true of my husband. I have always known that he was a strong, loving man, but he has really shown up for me, and our daughter through all of this. Right now he is carrying our entire family on his back, taking care of both of us, while still completing coursework and all that med school entails. I can’t wait until I am better so I can take some of the weight off of him, that man truly deserves a break. Seeing his love for our daughter and for me in action these past weeks has made me love, appreciate, and respect him more than I ever thought possible.

I also want to make it abundantly clear that despite this negative experience I do not in any way view motherhood in a negative light. Being a mother is and will always be the single greatest blessing of my life. Since the moment I first saw that faint pink line pop up almost a year ago my daughter has brought me boundless joy and hope. When I feel hopeless I look at her and see her sweet gummy smile, or listen to her adorable cooing and I know that things will be okay. Like my mom keeps reminding me, this is temporary. But my family is permanent and something I will always have to keep me going.