My Motherhood Journey
I am finally reaching a place in my motherhood journey that feels as good as it looks on Instagram.
Even though I have spent a lot of the past 5 years physically with my kids (thanks to entrepreneurship), being present to connect, feel and stay present with them hasn’t always felt available to me.
Did you know Güven and I had 2 kids under 2 years old, twice?
Reyla and Derya are 20 months a part AND Derya and Atlas are 21 months a part. And while I had always been manifesting this “close in age, big family,” the actual making and raising of this family hasn’t been the fantasy that I was expecting.
The story actually starts before my oldest, Reyla, was born. I don’t always acknowledge Toros’s life out loud in casual conversation because it can make people uncomfortable. But, sometimes he feels really close, either because he entered my dream wearing an older body, or sometimes I hear him, (like its my voice in my head except its offering me a new perspective and I know in my bones that it wasn’t from me) hear him.
When he feels really close, I like to talk about him.
When someone asks how many kids I have, I mention him in the number. Or sometimes share that he’s already passed but still part of my family. And sometimes I remind Reyla and Derya that he came before sharing a photo of me cradling him in the hospital bed.
Toros was born at Cleveland Clinic without a bladder, stomach, and kidneys back in February 2017. The medical world called it Bilateral Renal Agenesis. At my 20 week ultrasound, instead of finding out what sex organs grew, we found out that Toros’s body lacked essential life organs.
I remember a lot from that day.
I remember feeling so excited to find out the gender because it would help me narrow Güven and I’s list of favorite names.
I remember feeling excited to have our “reveal” that was scheduled at a Turkish restaurant with friends and family 2 days later that people were scheduled to fly in for.
I remember the ultrasound technician making a joke about my baby’s legs being crossed already doing yoga poses in the womb (because I love practicing yoga).
I remember the technician having a hard time seeing things because there wasn’t a lot of amniotic fluid which helps makes the ultrasound picture clearer.
I remember it seeming like time was ticking in slow motion.
I remember the technician leaving the room.
I remember how cold it was.
I remember google searching “low amniotic fluid” and mentally preparing myself for some sort of bad news regarding the miracle growing inside my womb.
I remember Güven and I caressing each other’s arms reassuring each other that everything would be okay.
I remember the doctor pulling up a stool to sit, handing me a box of tissues to hold, and said my baby wouldn’t live after birth.
After the doctor left, I remember the first thoughts that my brain offered me being: Of course, the baby wouldn’t live. I’d be too happy. I don’t deserve to have a great life partner, AND a love child to raise.
I remember crying.
A lot of crying.
I remember the few days leading up to my scheduled labor induction for Toros (interruption of pregnancy aka abortion). I had a handheld Doppler fetal monitor that I purchased on Amazon. I would use it many times a day searching for a heartbeat. I was obsessed with knowing if my body and Toros’s body would be able to keep him alive.
I wasn’t very good at finding his heartbeat in my belly using that little wand. His heart was about the size of a thumbnail at 20 weeks gestation and I had a larger body than I was used to and feeling anxious. Those seconds and sometimes minutes sliding the monitor wand all over the place while trying to stay calm were some really weird times. My internal dialogues were unusually loud offering the dreadful thought that the place that Toros was supposedly safest (inside my womb) would be the place that he was killed by my moving organs and lack of amniotic fluid, and maybe worse that I wouldn’t even notice when it happened.
Toros was going to pass and that there was nothing I could do to change it. It was heavy stuff.
I remember feeling a lot of shame; shame for my body, the situation, shame for the decision, for the sin, shame for having to tell everyone.
The shame.
I remember asking Güven on our drive home after giving birth and giving away Toros, if he thought God would forgive me?
I remember sobbing.
Together Textiles was born 5 days later and I was let go from my recruiting job at an agency 2 days after that (Feb 2017).
Reyla was born 11 months later (Jan 2018).
Then Derya was born 20 months after that (Sept 2019).
Covid stopped the world 6 months later (March 2020).
Then Atlas was born 14 months after that (June 2021).
I gave birth 4 times in 5 years (5 if you consider your small business also a child - lol).
I was active, strong, and healthy physically during those years. I averaged 5-10k steps a day on long walks with a stroller, ate soo much fruit while snacking and smoothies, and continued yoga throughout most of that time. I always strived to reach “pre-pregnancy” weight between pregnancies and didn’t find that to be too difficult to do honestly. My physical self felt made to make children in that way.
But my mental self was a whole different story.
One thing that I didn’t give myself was time. Time for rest, sleep, or alone time for reflection and processing. I have mentioned before that I have been living my dream life but that it hasn’t always felt dreamy. These pieces were missing and making my dream life feel awful a lot of the time. I was too exhausted and deep in emotional bypassing to notice how much shame and unprocessed trauma I was carrying along with my changing body and responsibilities.
Although there were a series of reasons for us to move to Turkey (where I live right now) from Ohio, one personal reason for me was to create space in my life from being all the things (mom, wife, entrepreneur, friend, sibling, daughter, etc.) and sleep; and breathe, and read, and write, and lay under the sun, and walk. I really needed time to be just me; whoever that was.
When we first arrived to Turkey, March 2022, I still struggled with finding space. We weren’t able to find a school for the kids or a babysitter as easily as we had anticipated. So my space was very limited in the beginning. I remember I got a few hours on one Saturday and having an intense panic episode in the middle of the pazar (farmer’s market) because I was away from the kids and Güven. I felt lost and dizzy and as if I couldn’t breathe without them. My eyes couldn’t see the ground and my feet felt like they were walking up a wall. The derealization was real.
I remember saying out loud how badly I needed a break, how badly I needed help, how badly I needed to sleep. I also remember everyone around me trying to give me what I needed. And they probably gave as much as they could (they were all struggling in their own ways too, of course), but it never felt enough; that I couldn’t reach the baseline I needed to reach. It felt horrible and never-ending. The weight was getting heavier and the distance between who I was and the relationships I had were getting bigger. But I wasn’t feeling any closer to who I was becoming either.
All of it felt disconnected and distant and ironically simultaneously it probably looked beautiful from the outside.
Last September, my friend and life coach Steph, hosted a retreat in Turkey and it marked my beginning of finally reaching a baseline. Where I had shed enough shame and processed enough trauma, AND caught up on sleep, AND rested, AND allowed time for reflection and processing. My full time, live-in nanny began working for us around that time, the girls were in school, and Güven went to Chicago for a month to work for Together Textiles.
I could breathe.
Alone time began to increase.
And slowly, my alone time began to feel good instead of incite panic.
Actually, I began craving alone time.
I began protecting my alone time in a way I never had before.
And to my surprise, I began feeling good again.
I began feeling soo good.
I finally felt in control of my thoughts and my reactions.
I finally had enough space in my life to hold space for others including my children.
I finally felt like I wasn’t performing for anyone.
It all felt authentic.
I realized I wasn’t capable of holding space before because I didn’t have space for myself.
With space, I feel brand new.
I just want to be a mom who loves herself and her people with everything she has.
And I feel like I am doing that.
It feels wonderful.
I am finally reaching a place in my motherhood journey that feels as good as it looks on Instagram.
About Together Textiles:
Cozy, sustainable, and versatile, Together Textiles designs robes and towels traditionally woven on looms in Turkey using the same techniques passed down four generations. Purchasing from Together Textiles means you are supporting an ancient craft, along with a budding family of five who loves connecting with the local communities while splitting time between Turkey and America. Follow the family business journey on Instagram @togethertextiles or read the blog togethertextiles.com/blog.
