I’m not one to have easy pregnancies. My introduction to motherhood began under starkly challenging circumstances, as I welcomed my children into the world on a cold operating table, groggy and fearful of what lay ahead. My journey through motherhood has been paved with obstacles; I faced sepsis during my son’s birth seven years ago, and this year, I experienced a stroke just days after giving birth to my beautiful daughter.
On June 27, 2015, nine days after her arrival, I suffered a brain bleed. I remember cradling my swaddled newborn, breastfeeding in my favorite pink robe, a piece of clothing I once adored but now dread. In that moment, everything felt perfect until a sudden, chilling sensation coursed through me, twisting my head and dimming my vision. At 34, I was slipping into blindness—I was having a stroke.
Waking up in the ICU, I was met with darkness and an empty cradle where my baby should have been. I could feel my partner’s hands holding mine and could hear soft voices around me, but I couldn’t see their faces. Questions fired at me from the medical staff, “How many fingers, Emily?” “What year is it?” “Who is the president?” My mind raced—where was my baby? Why was I here?
As a nurse unbuttoned my gown to attach a breast pump, I was painfully reminded of my inability to care for my 9-day-old daughter, a loss that felt insurmountable. Tears streamed down my face as reality hit me; my dreams of motherhood were crumbling.
Night fell, leaving me alone with my bewilderment. The following morning, neurologists filled my room, their faces momentarily coming into focus as I began to regain my vision. With each passing day in the ICU, I slowly improved. Eventually, I was moved to a step-down unit and finally had the chance to hold my daughter. Sitting on the bed in a tangle of IVs and disheveled hair, I embraced the life I had almost lost.
The summer turned into a gradual recovery process. I started with small victories—walking to the end of the driveway, tidying up my home, driving for the first time, and mustering the courage to be alone with my children. All the while, I battled postpartum depression and PTSD. The fear that I would lose my life and my children’s mother loomed heavily over me.
For weeks, I wrestled with the aftermath of my stroke. Friends and family saw my physical recovery and assumed I was fine, unaware of the anxiety, guilt, and anger brewing beneath the surface. I felt like a failure, especially in a world where other mothers seemed to thrive effortlessly. It soon became clear that I needed help.
I reached out for support, seeking solace through therapy and joining postpartum groups. Weekly check-ins with my doctor became essential, and I shared my fears with friends and neighbors. Despite the tears and panic, I reminded myself that I was still a mother, and I had to reclaim my strength.
As I navigated this tumultuous journey, I realized that recovery takes time. I often felt like I was crawling just to make it through the day, but a friend reminded me that “crawling is movement, so take heart.” With a strong support network, I began to heal. I discovered that I wasn’t alone; many women were fighting similar battles, and together, we could uplift one another.
In this picture-perfect world of motherhood, my birth trauma felt like a mark of failure. Yet, through connection and perseverance, I uncovered resilience and grace within myself. I emerged from this dark chapter a survivor, ready to support others on their journeys.
Perhaps in losing my sight, I found clarity.
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In summary, my journey through postpartum stroke and PTSD has been fraught with challenges, but it has also led to profound growth. With support and determination, I learned to navigate my fears and emerge as a stronger mother, ready to embrace the joys of motherhood.
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