If you missed my last column, you might not know that our baby is here. Jonah Cade is five weeks old, a wide-eyed, round-cheeked, peaceful little boy with a head full of spiky brown hair. All of us are completely in love with him.

But wow, it’s been a crazy five weeks. I thought that easing into new motherhood would be a piece of cake this time. After all, I’ve been here twice before. I expected the c-section to be the worst part of it, and that the weeks after the birth would be spent peacefully healing and growing together as a family of five.

Instead, it felt like being plowed into by an invisible tornado, then spending the next few weeks staggering around in a fog, trying to get back on my feet. I am just now beginning to feel like myself again.

The pregnancy itself was high-risk, with several complications including a preterm labor scare. It was a blessing to make it to 38 weeks, and deliver a healthy, normal baby.

I give my obstetrician the credit for that. A trusted OB/GYN is probably the most important doctor a woman can have, as she not only holds your life in her hands but your precious baby’s as well. Dr. Veronica Garrett has seen me through three pregnancies, infertility and a miscarriage, always treating me with compassion and the utmost concern. Every time a new issue arose, she made sure we got to the bottom of it.

Ruby, Tiffany and Heather, midwives in her practice, also took excellent care of me. I can’t say enough good things about this amazing group of women, or fully express the gratitude I feel for them when I look into the faces of my three beautiful boys. I know that without their care, I might not have my little blessings today.

Dr. Garrett’s team was a real comfort during what became a stressful postpartum experience. I had high blood pressure during the pregnancy, as I’d had before. But for some unknown reason, it stubbornly refused to return to normal after Jonah’s birth. So they adjusted my medication and kept me in the hospital an extra day to monitor it.

The night we came home from the hospital, I began to feel breathless. I attributed it to sleep deprivation and pain medication. But my blood pressure rose higher through the night; later, I couldn’t breathe when lying down. I was warned that could indicate a pulmonary embolism or a postpartum type of heart failure. That meant a scary, predawn trip to the ER, praying that nothing was seriously wrong.

After several tests and a cardiology appointment, it was determined that extreme fluid retention was seeping into my lungs, causing the shortness of breath. The cure was a diuretic, and the water weight finally began melting away.

It was so lovely to breathe well again, and to get reacquainted with my ankles. I’d forgotten there were bones inside my fat Flintstone feet. But the dye used during the CT scan meant that I couldn’t breastfeed for 48 hours and that exacerbated the difficulties I’d already had with nursing Jonah.

Again, after nursing two babies for a year apiece, I thought the third one would be a breeze. But Mr. Jonah keeps me on my toes—or rather, sitting on my butt, coaxing him to eat as God intended. We’re finally making progress and I am glad that we’ve stuck with it.

I’ve seen Dr. Garrett weekly for a slow-healing incision, and ended up at the dermatologist due to a systemic allergic reaction that caused itchy hives all over my limbs. Then we learned about a big financial setback and what was supposed to be a time of great joy felt dark and heavy and like things would never feel healthy, whole or normal again. I suppose it’s only natural that I battled the “baby blues” and ended up weeping over every little thing. It even rained most of those first weeks at home, matching my emotions.

But praise the Lord for friends and family. I can’t begin to name everyone who blessed us by bringing over food, cleaning, praying with me and sending encouraging emails and cards. It got me through, and if you were one of those people—thank you.

Despite all the struggles, I’d do it all again. I wish I could do it again. Infancy is so fleeting, so precious, and I’m astounded by how loving a new child takes nothing away from my love for my older children. It just multiplies, expands, filling up the house with joy and my heart with thanksgiving.