Bluesing After Baby…

That afternoon, after putting the kids down for nap, I nabbed the book and headed to the basement for some treadmill time. It was evidenced in the first page that the author clearly has a beef with the perception of parenthood and it’s no secret that I identify in some ways with that sentiment. I love my boys to the moon and back. And parenting with Adam is one of the joys of life. But parenting, as I’ve never masked, is a lot of work {like youralmosttwoyearoldscreamingsomuchyoushutyourselfinyourroom lot of work.} It just is. And so I read on…

And I found this gem. As the author shares her introduction to parenthood following the birth of her first daughter, she writes, “I was incredibly grateful to have my daughter and my health, but I couldn’t stop mourning the pregnancy and childbirth I thought I was going to have. I desperately longed the entrance into parenthood that I expected, the one I had planned so carefully for”. I slid backward on the treadmill and reread the line. It perfectly articulated the feelings I felt after Barrett. When they took him from us. When they started the tests. When he weighed less than a watermelon.

After I had Barrett, I felt so unprepared. I’d been preparing for 8 months. We’d done the nursery. We’d taken the classes. We’d even picked out a name for a human. Yet I felt completely overwhelmed by the 36 week induction of a baby who was a wee one. And as I’ve alluded to in the past, it made me a little bitter and terrified, I think. And a little lost. And no matter what the birth was like, or the weight of the babe, I’ve seen moms handle the circumstances much better than I.

I have recently seen more than a handful of my friends go through the experience of being a first-time mom. And as I’ve watched, I’ve realized that one of these things is not like the other. And that thing, is me. I’ve always known that I was a mess after Barrett was born. But seeing so many of my friends ease so gently and beautifully into being moms, I’ve realized that I pretty much ride the crazy train from 3 weeks post-partum on out. I can so remember the day my hormones dipped in the hospital. Adam was playing a song on the iPod and I told him he had to turn it off. I can’t recall what the song was but I can recall it wasn’t sad. But it was making me cry. It had to go.

Two weeks later, Barrett started screaming. He wasn’t sick. And they told me over and over, he’d never remember it. But I was miserable. I was exhausted. I was anxious and obsessed with feeding and pumping. I showered every four days at best. I was not in a good place. But I sort of just went through the motions. I knew it wasn’t right… I’m a pretty happy-go-lucky gal…so much so, I’ve been told it’s annoying. But I was anything but happy. I was a mess. And the craziest part to me was, I did not want to leave him. I was overly concerned about his well-being. I was obsessed with quelling his cries. And that made no sense to me…because the info on the blues and PPD said I’d feel indifference toward my baby. But I think I needed to be the one to do it all…because as dramatic as it might sound, I didn’t feel like I’d held up my end of the deal with my pregnancy. 

And then, at my six week appointment, I talked about how emotional I was. About how exhausted I was. And everyone assured me that all women feel this way. That it was completely normal. With all the changes and with little sleep and trying to fatten up a screaming babe, it was textbook. And then I quit my job. The job I had that felt assured in. And so I never returned to my former self. And I tried to fit in exercise and healthy (as healthy as I could be with all the restrictions) diet. And sunshine. And sex. And nothing helped. And I cried…a lot. {Ask my husband}. And the reality was, I didn’t actually feel normal until after I weaned B off the boobs. After that, I felt like me again. And it was lovely.

When I had Jonah, I had concerns that I would suffer from the blues again. I was prepared this time. I wouldn’t let this happen. I would keep my hormones in check. And the first few weeks were downright blissful. But as soon as Jonah began his belly crunching cries, I headed to nutty bananaland once again. I was moody…I was exhausted…and oh, the anxiety. I felt stuck in a land of monotony in which the screams and breastmilk would never be gone. I was not in a good place. And I didn’t love it. Because I could tell. And that’s the worst, right? When you recognize an issue but it feels irreparable.

And once again, I asked for advice. I changed up my diet. Added different vitamins. Doubled my water intake. Tried exercise…but lacked the time for such business. Enlisted help from family and babysitters. And those things were restorative to my spirit. But something was still off. Again, I just didn’t recover hormonally until I weaned Jonah from the juicers { and even the weaning was a scene}. And after that, I felt like me again, again. And it was lovely. 

So when we found out we were pregnant in January, I was thrilled. But I already began thinking. Thinking about the post-partum period in which I would likely be far from the self i know and it made me concerned. Concerned that while we definitely hope and pray for a third child, I just don’t know if I am a strong enough mama to handle it. And while I know that that post-partum time is short in the big scheme of our children’s lives, it never feels good to feel like you are a crappy, lackluster, less than wonderful mom or wife or friend or sister or daughter. It never feels good to hear people say they don’t want their infants to get bigger and feel like you’re some brand of evil because you don’t think babies are flowers and bunnies and unicorns. It never feels good to feel like you are not in control of your own body. But as women, we deal often with this reality. 

So I asked my mid-wife. At our very first appointment, the day we later found our most recent pregnancy to be a miscarriage, I said, quite confidently, “I can’t do this like I’ve done it before. I have two kids and a husband. I am going to need to have help. To control my hormones. To help with the blues or whatever it is that I’ve dealt with both times”. It’s a hard thing to say, even though I’d asked for help before, I hadn’t been so specific. And in true Jearlyn fashion, she replied with a smile and said, “you’ll have options”. She laid out common natural options to start with including a natural Progesterone shot immediately following birth and then another at my six week appointment {which a friend of mine had and it worked beautifully}. She told me that it’s okay. That hormones are something we have absolutely no control over and that a lot of women need a little nudge. And that made me feel better. More normal. And less broken.

I have never questioned, for a second, the love I have for the boys. And I believe that I am a good mom. But I want, as much as I can, to be a great one. And in feeling more equipped and mentally readied as a mom, I can continue to be a supportive, loving wife. And if that means admitting weakness, I’m good with that. 

So we shall see what time brings…if we get pregnant again someday, or not {my levels are FINALLY down to 0}…but the best feeling is knowing that I am even more ready than I was before and that I feel comfort knowing that even if I can’t really have control, I’ll have a plan, should I need one. Because not everything is textbook. And that just like everything else, we’ll get through it together.

“When we parent, we’re trying desperately to control an inherently uncontrollable situation”

-Jessica Valenti, Why Have Kids