Trigger Warning: depression, NICU, congenital heart defect

He was here. Warm in my arms, smelling of milk and hope, but I was still holding my breath. The last night of my hospital stay, the photographer who had visited the day before brought in a slideshow of our first family photos set to sappy music. Until seeing his big brown eyes that match my own projected on the wall, I hadn’t allowed myself to believe he was ours. In that instant, everything I’d been holding back for the past nine months poured out of me. I sobbed uncontrollably and Jason agreed to purchase the largest photo package available.

The next morning, with the car seat installed and checked and gifts, brochures, and tiny diapers packed, we waited to start our new life together - after one more echocardiogram of Oliver’s heart.

Within the hour and without explanation, he was rushed to the NICU. We were told the cardiologist would speak with us shortly. We waited, clinging to each other and choking on tears. Everything got hazy and I could barely breathe.

We spent the next few days in the NICU, fortunate to stay in a Ronald McDonald House room onsite. Jason explained what the cardiologist had told him: There was a hole between the ventricles of Oliver’s heart that would need to be surgically patched within the year. Tangled in the countless tubes and wires between us, I breastfed my son between tests.

Despite having everything I needed at my disposal, I couldn’t take care of myself.

Changing my own blood-soaked pads felt self indulgent while someone else was changing my son. So I didn’t.

Falling asleep in the quiet bedroom down the hall felt absurd while Oliver drifted in and out of naps to a lullaby of beeps and blinking lights. So I didn’t.

Punishment for letting the pain in.

And nobody noticed.

Exciting Announcement!

I recently contributed to this art journal for mothers and birthing people! If you have children, know folks with kids, or work with mothers and birthing people, this project is definitely worth checking out.

About the Books

Entwined is an anthology that weaves together stories of creativity and motherhood. This is a grassroots project including 55 mothers who are painters, writers, potters, visual artists, musicians, poets, and multipassionates. The purpose of this project is to inspire mothers to pursue creativity in their own way.

Ember is an art journal companion. A variety of creative prompts (writing, observation, ideating, dreaming, and making) curated to help mothers to kindle their creative sparks.

You can support the project by preordering, donating a copy, or sharing on social media.

Stay tuned for Translating Anxiety into Art: Underwater (Part 3)! Drop your email in the footer below and I’ll let you know when it’s published.

The Postpartum Collection: Translating Anxiety into Art was originally published on June 25, 2024 in the Moms Mental Health Initiative Stories of Hope blog.