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- Was She Worth It?
by Sarah Mitchell
Updated: April 22, 2021
Originally Published: March 13, 2016
The arrival of my daughter transformed me in ways I never anticipated—deep within my very being. The first time someone posed the question, “But she was worth it, right?” I was still reeling from the effects of pain medication while confined to my hospital bed. At that moment, I was uncertain.
During my second trimester, I was out for a brief jog when an excruciating pain in my groin brought me to my knees. My doctor dismissed my concerns with a sarcastic remark, implying that discomfort was simply part of the pregnancy experience. As my pain escalated, I transitioned from using crutches to a walker, and ultimately, a wheelchair. I was eager to meet my daughter, but more than anything, I wanted her to be born so I could reclaim my body. I couldn’t even shower without assistance, and the agony made me crave relief in the form of painkillers.
After labor, a series of X-rays and an MRI revealed that the pain I had felt was not a mere injury from jogging; it was a warning sign. I had developed transient osteoporosis, a rare condition triggered by pregnancy that depleted my bones of calcium. The tests confirmed stress fractures in my hip and pelvis, the result of my body enduring labor.
At just 29, my physical condition was irrevocably altered.
I had anticipated giving up certain comforts when I became pregnant: restful nights, outings with my husband, and my favorite jeans. I thought I could manage a break from running while my daughter grew inside me. “You’ll be back at it in no time,” my fellow running enthusiasts encouraged.
However, during a follow-up appointment, my doctor casually remarked, “You’ll only run again if someone is chasing you.” Though he said it with a smile, his words haunted me as I limped out of his office. Back at home, I stared at the marathon bibs that adorned my wall, reminders of my former self.
It took four long months of rehabilitation before I could walk unaided, carry my daughter, or push her stroller. I watched my husband effortlessly cradle her, take her on strolls, and soothe her cries. What kind of mother couldn’t care for her own child?
“Could I at least run three miles now and then, years down the line?” I pleaded with the orthopedic surgeon. “Running will result in severe arthritis, and you’ll likely need a hip replacement sooner than you think.”
When I shared my story with a former running friend, she looked at me with empathy. “She’s worth it, right?”
In those early weeks after giving birth, I struggled to respond. I stammered, “Of course!” but at times, I didn’t fully believe it. I felt trapped in a new identity as a mother and yearned for my old, unbroken self. Though I loved my daughter dearly, I resented the toll her arrival had taken on my body.
At night, I would kiss her delicate cheeks as I put her to sleep beside my bed. I lay there on my fractured hip, holding back tears as every gentle sway caused me pain, a constant reminder of what I had lost.
Whenever these feelings arose, I scolded myself. I had a healthy baby—why couldn’t my love for her eclipse everything else? I felt immense guilt for wishing things were different.
Weeks rolled by, and by the time my daughter was seven weeks old, I had regained enough strength to walk short distances with crutches. Eager to break free from my apartment, I enrolled in a new mothers’ class. Here, I could voice my thoughts without feeling the need to justify them with, “I love my child, but…” Week after week, amid the laughter and cooing of babies, we supported one another as we acknowledged our sacrifices in a judgment-free environment.
Gradually, my bones grew stronger. I made new friends, including some from the mothers’ group, who never asked whether my daughter was worth the pain. They understood the answer was an emphatic yes—yet, they also recognized the significance of my scars.
People often say that parenthood is unpredictable. The experience of having my daughter shattered parts of my body and spirit, but I’ve begun to piece myself back together.
I often ponder how I will one day explain the story of her birth to my daughter. Will she inquire why I no longer run? How will I spare her feelings of guilt for the pain I endured? Should she decide to have children, I hope her body remains strong. Yet, even if she has a smooth pregnancy, I want her to understand that motherhood changes you in unexpected ways. There will be sacrifices, but on the other side lies a stronger, wiser self, ready to embrace the challenges of parenting and acknowledge that, once everything settles, those sacrifices are profoundly worth it.
This article was originally published on March 13, 2016.
Summary:
The journey of motherhood is fraught with unexpected challenges and sacrifices, as experienced by Sarah Mitchell. After enduring severe pain and physical limitations during her pregnancy, she grapples with the question of whether her daughter was worth the cost to her body. Through support from fellow mothers and a gradual recovery, she learns to embrace her new identity while recognizing the scars that come with the experience. Ultimately, Sarah conveys that while motherhood transforms you in profound ways, the rewards can be immeasurable.