Meghan Trainor.Photo: Courtesy
Meghan Trainoris sharing more about herscary birth story.
In her upcoming bookDear Future Mama,the pop star, 29, opens up about herson Riley, whom she welcomed via cesarean section in 2021 with herhusband,Spy Kidsstar Daryl Sabara, 30.
When Riley was born, he struggled with breathing issues and spent several days in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) before he was healthy enough to go home. And now, Trainor is revealing she suffered post-traumatic stress disorder following the birth.
The “Mother” singer was diagnosed with PTSD after the birth, when Riley was rushed to the NICU with Sabara while Trainor was left being sewn up on the surgical table.
For more on Meghan Trainor, pick up the new issue of PEOPLE, on newsstands everywhere Friday.
“I couldn’t go to sleep at night. I would be in tears and tell Daryl, ‘I’m still on that table, dude. I’m trapped there. I can’t remind myself I’m in bed and I’m safe at home,’ " Trainor says. “I had to learn how traumatic it was.”
The Grammy winner sought help from her therapist, whom she says told her: “So, you know how you cry every night when you go to bed and you feel the pain, even though there’s no pain left, and it comes back to you? It’s chemical reactions in your brain. Something’s off, and we have to open that up and heal that wound.”
Through therapy, “I just worked through it,” Trainor adds. “Time heals all.”
Meghan Trainor and son Riley.Meghan Trainor and son Riley.Meghan Trainor and son Riley.PHOTO: CourtesyMeghan Trainor and son Riley.PHOTO: Courtesy
Meghan Trainor and son Riley.Meghan Trainor and son Riley.
Meghan Trainor and son Riley.
Meghan Trainor and son Riley.PHOTO: CourtesyMeghan Trainor and son Riley.PHOTO: Courtesy
Below, read an exclusive excerpt from the book about Trainor’s traumatic birth.
CHAPTER 17: HERE COMES RILEY
I learned absolutely nothing. They were all wrong. I love influencer content, but it’s designed to sell you an aesthetic, and childbirth is not aesthetic, y’all. Maybe I’m just jealous, but I’m not the kind of person who is going to pack multiple outfits for a surprise outfit change. But watching all this stuff made mewantto be that person, and so I bought a ton of stuff that I absolutely didn’t need. The only things in my bag that I’m glad I had were a blanket and a pillow, because I’m picky. Every person and each pregnancy are so different that trying to get advice about what you will want for an experience you’ve never had before is useless. Besides, the hospital will have what you trulyneed. That’s kind of their job.
Walking into the hospital was like stepping up to a counter to order lunch.
“Hi, I’m Meghan, I’d like a C-section today.”
“Of course. Have a seat and we’ll be right with you.”
In our little room, there was a bed but no shower. I was a little freaked out, thinking I would be here for the next few days, but, you know,surrender. But that was just the room where I got my IV while they prepared the surgical room and checked to make sure I wasn’t having contractions. My nurse heard my entire life story, and I asked her a million questions about her life. It’s so funny to think that these people are a part of the most important moments of your life and you never see them again, but I think of them like guardian angels. She made me feel totally comfortable and even took a photo of me and Daryl together, telling us, “This is the last photo of the two of you before you become parents!” It was time for the biggest moment of our lives, and all we had to do was just walk down the hallway to the surgical room. The entire experience is so surreal: it’s a huge deal and no big deal all at once.
I went in alone to get my epidural, which is basically a huge needle that goes into your spine to numb you from the ribs down. I’d seen a ton of YouTube videos and Instagram posts where people freak out about this, but it really wasn’t that bad.Surrender, I told myself. But then they asked whether it was okay for the residents to do my epidural, and for the first time in my life I stood up for myself. I love doctors, and a teaching hospital is an incredible thing, but I was not comfortable with anyone learning on me during my first C-section.
I loved being in a room of (mostly) women, and I reminded myself that if anything felt weird, I’d say something. I had a shooting pain down my right leg and immediately told them what was happening, and they adjusted something that made it go away.Surrender.
You can’t lie on your back while the epidural is kicking in, so I was kind of awkwardly sitting up, asking questions like “Oh my God, what if I pee?” They laughed. I already had a catheter in and didn’t even feel it. The epidural was already doing its job. Once I was nice and drugged up, they finally let Daryl come in. He’d been in the hallway listening to a song I wrote for him years before called “You’re Worth Waiting For.” It’s never been officially released, but he had it on his phone and I love him for how sentimental he is.
And I’m grateful I ain’t got to wait no more
You’re worth waiting for
I don’t want to scare you, so if you’re not into the details, skip the next part: you can smell yourself. Like, your burning skin. I’d been warned about that smell, but there is nothing to prepare you for it. It’s . . . not a good smell, and it will stick with you for a while. But honestly, I can’t remember it now; I just know that it was pungent.
Daryl gripped my hand like I would be pulled away from him. I couldn’t feel any pain, but I could feel myself being yanked around down there. Daryl kept me present and grounded.
“Whoa,” I whispered. “He’s actually beautiful.”
I saidactuallybecause he didn’t look like my cousin had, because he hadn’t had to squish through the birth canal. (Bonus for C-section babies: they’re extra pretty right away.) He was perfect and gorgeous. Our Riley was here. They whisked him back over the curtain, and after a few minutes I realized that I hadn’t heard him cry.
DARYL SAYS:
Everyone who works in a delivery room or the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) should be an actor. Riley wasn’t crying, and you could tell something wasn’t right, but everyone was smiling at me and nobody looked worried. Even the guy who was tossing Riley around was smiling while he said, “Usually we’d hear more noise and his breathing is a little shallow.” My number one priority was to make sure Meghan got skin-to-skin contact with Riley right away, and it felt like I was failing. She was drugged out of her mind and I didn’t want her to worry, so I did my best to try to stay calm.
“It just takes a minute sometimes,” they told me, and in my drug haze I just thought,But I want to hold him. I really, really wanted to hold him and get skin-to-skin contact right away, but after ten minutes they told us he needed to go to the NICU.
“Can she see him, please?” Daryl asked.
“Do you want me to stay with you or go with Riley?” he asked. I had at least forty-five minutes to be “sewed up,” so I asked him to stay with me, but the doctor spoke over me.
When it was over and they put me on a rolling bed to wheel me to my room, I heard the weirdest thing: “All About That Bass” blasting from another surgical room. I was still drugged as hell, so I started dancing with my arms and telling everyone it was my song. My nurse laughed. I guess another mom had heard I was there and blasted my song to help celebrate my delivery. Whoever you are, that was iconic, and I will never forget it. Thank you.
This is where I owe that angel nurse a big, huge thank-you. I know I said it about a thousand times while we were in the hospital room, but I can’t possibly say it enough. Wherever you are, I hope you know that your presence and your kindness got me through the scariest parts of that day (and frankly, my life). Thank you for getting Riley into my arms, for laughing at my jokes, and for making me feel like everything was going to be okay. Riley was being taken good care of, and so was I.
THE RECOVERY
“We have to have more,” I told Daryl, slipping my hands into the incubator to feel our son’s heartbeat.
This was the first day I got to hold Riley — really hold him — and I didn’t want to let go. I took my shirt off and held him against my skin, and felt his little ribs rise and fall under my hand. But those wires snapped me back to reality real quick. It was like a movie. If the heart rate monitor shifted even a little bit, an alarm would blare and I’d feel like he was about to die. The nurses would just push a button and turn it off like it was no big deal, but it’s jarring (especially when you’re still drugged up).
Every day, Daryl would wheel me up to see our boy, and we’d spend hours looking at him, singing to him, and eventually holding him. He was so small, and there were so many cords, we both felt like we’d break him if we picked him up. But he was surprisingly sturdy for a tiny little guy, and holding him was absolute heaven.
I would have spent every minute in the NICU, but I had my own healing to do. Standing up and sitting down were even harder than they’d been when I was at the end of my pregnancy. Daryl would help lower me to and hoist me off the toilet, and he would take me for little walks, cheering me on and telling me how strong I was. I didn’t feel strong. I used to do actual workouts, and now I felt like a champion if I could walk down the hallway? Mentally, I felt like the C-section scar could open up at any minute and all my guts could spill out. And then it happened. Or, it felt like it happened. I plopped onto the toilet to take my first pee after delivery and I felt something fall out of me. Something big. Something that made a splash.
I was freaking the f— out, telling the nurse “I think something bad is happening.” She was freakishly calm and said, “You’re fine; it’s normal.” When I finally got up, there was a big-ass blood clot sitting in the bowl. I knew you could bleed after a vaginal birth, but I was not prepared for this to happen after a C-section. It seriously felt like I’d lost an organ, but apparently it was no big deal? Our bodies are amazing and crazy.
POST C-SECTION REVIEWS
Everyone — and their recovery — is different, but here were the absolute worst parts for me:
RILEY’S RECOVERY
Our pediatrician came to meet Riley the day after he was born and assured us that a lot of babies go through this and that Riley would make progress and come home to us. It took five days in the NICU to finally get Riley cleared to come home. Five days of visits where he was covered in cords and tubes, and where I had to stay in a wheelchair. As much as possible, we held him to our chests, skin to skin, and talked to him. On his last night, we begged for him to be able to stay with us in our room so we could have a practice run at life as a family of three. We learned to change him, bathe him, swaddle him. We all snuggled in the hospital bed together and talked about how beautiful he was. And the next morning, we packed our bags and headed home.
source: people.com
