This Is Hard
Today’s post is written by mom Michelle Valiukenas. She is the Founder and Executive Director, The Colette Louise Tisdahl Foundation.
Michelle is the proud mom of her angel Sweet Pea, who she lost due to miscarriage, her angel daughter Colette Louise who she lost at nine days old, and her only living child, her rainbow baby, Elliott Miguel. Inspired by her journey with Colette, Michelle and her husband founded The Colette Louise Tisdahl Foundation, whose mission is to improve outcomes of pregnancy, childbirth, prematurity, and infancy, as well as aid in the grieving process through financial assistance, education, and advocacy. Their flagship program financially assists families dealing with high-risk and complicated pregnancies, NICU stays, and loss. The organization’s ability to help families relies on donations and grants and they are grateful if you are able to donate. Michelle also participates and advocates on issues of maternal health, maternal mortality, infant health and safety, and pregnancy complications. Michelle lives in Glenview, Illinois with her son Elliott, husband Mark, and dog Nemo.
Thank you, Michelle, for sharing your story!
When I first held my son Elliott in my arms, I felt transformed. He was here, he really was here, he was safe, and he was on track to come home with us. You see, our story of getting to that moment took years and had many obstacles. The highlights look a little like a hodge podge of medical terms and diagnoses: unexplained infertility, failed treatments, IVF, miscarriage, failed IVF, pregnancy, hospitalization and preeclampsia, preterm birth, NICU stay, infant death at nine days old, using a gestational carrier, a global pandemic.
That first night in the hospital, I think I only slept a few minutes, in part because my husband not bringing his CPAP to the hospital meant his snoring kept me awake, but mostly because I spent the night staring at my son in amazement and wonder. He was so beautiful, so perfect, and I was still stunned that he was ours. Then, when we got to take him home, it was surreal that we could have such a perfect, wonderful baby.
Everything was wonderful, I was over the moon in love with my son, I was so incredibly grateful that he was in my arms, and it felt like nothing could go wrong. It also felt like there was a pressure on me to enjoy every moment and to not complain about a thing.
But, that is not what it is like to parent. Instead, my reality showed that while I was loving being this little guy’s mom, I also had days where I cried out of frustration, stress, and lack of sleep. Some days, all Elliott wanted was to be held and walked throughout the house. If I stopped walking, he would start to scream. It was absolutely exhausting and draining.
On one particular day, when my husband had gone back to work and Elliott’s need was for someone to hold him and then walk him throughout the house, never stopping. If I stopped, he screamed his head off. So I walked and walked and walked. I was so excited my mother-in-law was coming over that afternoon so she could take over and I could have a moment. I was counting down the minutes when she called me. She had gone to an event and was not sure about Covid exposure so she thought she should stay home. I agreed with her, but after we hung up, I cried. I was so tired of carrying this little guy, my arms ached, my legs ached, I felt completely tense and stiff, and having not had a break at all, I was so over it. I cried at the lack of a break, at feeling alone, and at the guilt and grief. How could I be complaining about carrying this little guy when I had wanted this for years? How could I want so badly to hand him off to someone else when all I wanted was a baby to carry?
The tears could not stop coming, from both me and my son. I began counting the moments until my husband would be home so that I could hand him off. When he finally walked in the door, I met him at the door and basically shoved our son into his arms. I went upstairs to have a moment to myself, to rest my weary body, and again, to feel the enormity of guilt, guilt that after my husband worked all day, including a long commute, and yet got a kid handed to him as soon as he walked in the door, guilt that I was annoyed at my son for merely wanting to be held, guilt at not appreciating our struggles and losses enough to just enjoy every moment with my son.
When I finally got myself composed and felt a little more human, I returned downstairs to the two most important men in my life. My husband was calmly walking him around the house and my heart swelled at their love, at him as the incredible father I always knew he would be, and I was happy. My husband turned to look at me and said, are you better? I said yes, and then started crying again, telling him how frustrating the day had been and how guilty I felt. He turned to me and said, listen, this is hard, you are allowed to be exhausted, you are allowed to wish for a break, and you are allowed to ask for help.
As the word help left his mouth, I realized that I was so stressed that I forgot there were so many people I could have called that would have helped. My mom, just a 15-minute drive away, would have come and taken over; my sister, just 30 minutes away, would have left work early to come and given me a break; and so many others. And yet, in my quest to “enjoy” every moment and to be all sunshine and rainbows, I had gotten so overextended and so overtired that I forgot about the resources that I did have. So, I learned to ask for help. Now, it’s not easy for me and I am still working on that, but I also know that sometimes it does really take a village and that when you figuratively throw up your hands and say I don’t know what to do right now, there are so many people who will come forward to help, without judgment, without blame, and that is a wonderful thing.
I also realized that I had to let go of a lot of things. My family was already imperfect, we would forever be missing our daughter Colette, so being able to step back and realize that nothing was going to be exactly the way that I wanted. It was a freeing thought to think of my family as imperfect in its own special, unique way. Parenting is just as amazing as it is challenging, and you are doing the very best you can. Oh, and ask for help!
