I'm a mom!

I haven’t posted an entry in quite some time. Obviously, I’ve had much bigger priorities on my plate. I’m blessed to share that Isaac Neil Ignacio was born on Monday, Feb. 14th at 3pm. Isaac was born at a healthy weight of 8lbs 12 oz. He’s a big beautiful baby boy!



Scheduling a last-minute cesarean delivery definitely had its tradeoffs. It’s remarkable to realize my amazing doctor safely delivered my baby in about 15minutes. But recovery has been slow and at times quite painful. I am forever grateful to God for giving me my helpful family and friends and my ever so helpful husband. He definitely played Mr. Mom while I lay helplessly in bed for the first few weeks after bringing home baby. My husband went above and beyond in every aspect for mom and baby.



My baby boy is nearly 7 weeks old and I still pinch myself every time I look at him. Am I really a mom? Am I really his mom? Is this beautiful baby really mine? Motherhood is quite a concept to fathom. I praise God for the motherly instincts He designed to kick in on demand. I never knew I had it in me to be a mom, but I apparently was cut out for this amazing gig.

But I must admit that while it’s been heavenly bliss raising this baby, I’ve had my tumultuous spats of postpartum depression. It’s hard to admit this, but there were times I was completely miserable, angry, frustrated and helpless when it came to sustaining the life of my newborn. I am going on seven weeks of breastfeeding. The first three weeks were absolute hell. Bloody scabs, a fever coupled with an infection welcomed me to the wonderful world of breastfeeding. Not to mention, I was recovering from major surgery. The first few weeks were the biggest challenge I have ever faced physically and emotionally.

Although my husband and I were ecstatic to have this healthy baby, we got into some of the most vicious arguments. My postpartum depression involved emotionally berating my husband with hurtful words. Each time he lovingly tried to pacify my frustrations, I became enraged. In one particular instance, he attempted to calm me down with good intention. He said, “We’re in this together.” I lashed out hatefully saying, “No, I’m all by myself on this!”

That retort crushed my husband. To him, it was demeaning, hurtful and made him feel like a useless counterpart in our early stages of parenthood. Sadly, I meant to hurt him because at that intense moment I truly felt ALONE. He had no idea what it was like to nurse a child while recovering from surgery while managing heightened emotions. My self-inflicted negativity brought about jealousy and envy towards my beloved husband. I was so jealous that he didn’t have to go through the torture of child birth and breastfeeding. I was so jealous that it was only me feeling the agonizing pain after my body had been surgically mangled to bring about this new life. I was so jealous that he didn’t have to go through anything physically and that he could do nothing to take the pain away. I was a jealous beast…and although I could completely blame it on postpartum depression, there truly was more to it.

Being the strong Christian believer that he is, my husband would routinely remind me that every postpartum internal conflict I lost was another victory for the evil one. He made me realize that postpartum depression is not clinical…it’s spiritual. He believes these symptoms were a psychosomatic manifestation of a spiritual battle. He would remind me not to let the devil in…not to let the devil win.

Did I listen? Not at first. It was hard to. I was in too much pain to get out of my heart and into my head. But as humility would demand of me, I had to deny everything negative about each conflict. I didn’t want to constantly face defeat for the sake of my marriage and for the sake of my precious baby. When I felt distressed, the baby could feel my stress. I hated that. So I decided to forcefully shake off the postpartum depression symptoms as best as I could. I’m only human so naturally I would weaken here and there. But it took everything in me (along with my God-fearing husband) to realize that I wasn’t fighting myself on this…I was fighting the lesser of powers, aka, the evil one. Note to self -- it’s spiritual, not personal.

Now after nearly seven weeks of being a mom, things have truly taken a turn for the better. I’m excited to share that both baby and I have mastered breastfeeding and it’s virtually painless. Yes, there is hope for you soon-to-be-breastfeeding moms out there!

It’s amazing what patience, persistence and most importantly, prayer can miraculously do. I do still experience fleeting moments of sadness or negativity. But in these times, I’m now better equipped to face the struggle. Each time I look down at Isaac’s beautiful face, I’m reminded that it’s all totally worth it. Pardon the euphemism, but I believe the juice is definitely worth the squeeze. I love being a mom and am reassured that this most amazing gig is meant for me.