Today’s post was written by mom Michelle Valiukenas. He is the Founder and Executive Director, The Colette Louise Tisdahl Foundation.
Michelle is the proud mother of her angel Sweet Pea, who she lost to a 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 pregnancy, birth, prematurity, and infancy outcomes, as well as aid in the process of grieving 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 would appreciate it if you could 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 a change. He was here, he really was here, he was safe, and he was on track to come home to us. You see, our story of getting to that moment took many years and had many obstacles. The highlights look like a hodge podge of medical terms and diagnoses: unexplained infertility, failed treatment, IVF, miscarriage, failed IVF, pregnancy, hospitalization and preeclampsia, preterm birth, NICU stay, baby death at nine days old, using a gestational carrier, a global pandemic.
The first night in the hospital, I think I only slept a few minutes, in part because my husband didn’t bring his CPAP to the hospital, his snoring kept me awake, but mostly because I spent the night staring at my son in amazement and wonder . She’s so beautiful, so perfect, and I’m still stunned that she’s ours. Then, when we brought him home, it was surreal that we could have a perfect, wonderful baby.
Everything is wonderful, I am delighted with my son, I am so grateful that he is in my arms, and it seems that nothing can go wrong. It also felt like there was pressure on me to enjoy every moment and not complain about a thing.
But, that’s not how parenting works. Instead, my reality showed that while I loved mothering this child, I also had days where I cried from frustration, stress, and lack of sleep. Some days, all Elliott wants is to be held and walked around the house. If I stopped walking, she would scream. It’s really tiring and tiring.
One particular day, when my husband went back to work and Elliott needed someone to hold him and then walk him around the house, not stopping. When I stopped, she screamed. So I walked and walked and walked. I was so excited that my mother-in-law was coming over that afternoon so she could take over and I could have a moment. I was counting the minutes when he called me. He went to an event and wasn’t sure about exposure to Covid so he thought he’d stay home. I agreed with him, but after we hung up, I cried. I was so tired of carrying this little guy, my arms hurt, my legs hurt, I felt completely stiff and stiff, and because I didn’t even have a break, I was too much. I cried at the lack of rest, at feeling alone, and at the guilt and sadness. How can I complain about carrying this little guy when I’ve wanted him for years? How could I want so badly to hand him off to someone else when all I want is a baby to carry?
The tears did not stop, from me and my son. I started counting the moments until my husband got home so I could give him. When he finally came through the door, I met him at the door and practically pushed our son into his arms. I went upstairs to have a moment to myself, to rest my tired body, and again, to feel a lot of guilt, guilt that after my husband had worked all day, including a long journey, and so on man had a child that was given to him as soon as he walked in the door, guilty that I resent my child because I just want to hold him, guilty for not appreciating our struggles and losses to just enjoy each moment with my son.
When I finally composed myself and felt a little more human, I went back downstairs to the two most important men in my life. My husband calmly walks him around the house and my heart swells with their love, with him being the incredible father I always knew he would be, and I am happy. My husband turned to me and said, are you more beautiful? I said yes, and then started crying again, telling him how frustrating the day was and how guilty I felt. He turned to me and said, listen, it’s hard, it lets you get tired, it lets you ask for a break, and it lets you ask for help.
When the word help came out of his mouth, I realized that I was so stressed that I forgot that there were many people I could call to help. My mother, only a 15-minute drive away, would come and catch up; my sister, only 30 minutes away, would leave work early to come and give me a break; and much more. However, in my quest to “enjoy” every moment and be all sunshine and rainbows, I became overwhelmed and so exhausted that I forgot about the resources I had. So, I learned to ask for help. Now, it’s not easy for me and I’m still doing that, but I also know that sometimes it really does take a village and that when you literally throw up your hands and say I don’t know what to do now, there are so many people who will come to help, without judgment, without blaming, and that’s a wonderful thing.
I also realized that I had to let go of many things. My family is no longer perfect, we will miss our daughter Colette forever, so being able to step back and realize that nothing is going to be exactly the way I want it to be. It’s a free thought to think of my family as imperfect in its own special, unique way. Parenting is wonderful and hard, and you do the best you can. Oh, and ask for help!
