Mixed with the moments of love and baby bliss, I've shed a lot of tears this past six weeks. I cried when we first got home from the hospital because the baby seemed so unhappy and somehow I felt like it was my fault that her entrance into the world was so rough. I cried when the baby cried and I had no idea why she was crying, and my friend who happened to come over probably thought I was a serious nutjob. I cried when all of my family members who came down to LA to help us left and I went about my day alone for the first time and felt so lonely. I cried while breastfeeding because it hurt so badly the first few weeks and I wanted to give up. I cried whenever I touched my Boppy pregnancy body pillow because it reminded me of how much I used to sleep when I was pregnant (proudly, about 10 hours a night!) I cried when the dog barked at the baby crying because I didn't know how I could deal with crying and barking at the same time, but couldn't bear the thought of giving away the dog even though we would never do that. I cried when the neighbor complained about the baby crying. I even cried when I was really hungry one day, there was no food in the house, and I had no idea what to do because I was so tired I couldn't think straight.
Luckily, I feel that things have turned a corner although it's been a rough transition into motherhood, mostly because I had no idea that it would be like this. When people used to talk about babies waking up in the middle of the night, I would think, "Oh, I'm sure our baby will sleep through the night" or "I can deal with getting up in the middle of the night once." But you don't imagine that it is multiple times a night for days on end, and all of that added with the pressure of adjusting to feeding the baby 8-12 times a day and trying to be a great mom can make you feel like you're about to crack sometimes.
I had a heart-to-heart conversation with my mom when she was in town last week to help me with the baby while Paul was away on a company retreat. I was exhausted from a few awful nights of the baby not sleeping well, combined with anxiety plaguing my mind causing terrible insomnia. I tried to nap and couldn't fall asleep for the life of me, and was so tired and wiped out I almost felt like I would vomit for whatever reason. I came out of our bedroom in tears, and begin rambling about every single fear or anxiety that had taken over my thoughts and prevented me from sleeping. My mom listened patiently, assuring me that it was perfectly normal to go through all this huge life change. She reminded me to keep everything in perspective - here was my beautiful, healthy baby girl, and she needed a mom who was happy, not a mess. This stage, after all, is temporary - she won't be an infant forever, and it will all pass before I know it, and this isn't the end of my career as I fear it will be, but a special season where a baby needs her mom the most.
I've taken much of her advice to heart and feel that somehow I've turned a corner lately. In an honest conversation with my doctor, I told her that I had been feeling slight signs of depression. She asked me if I had thoughts of hurting myself or my baby, which are signs of more severe postpartum depression, and I quickly said an honest no. So she assured me that what I was feeling was normal, and that it would pass quickly. But sometimes when I don't have enough alone time or go for days without leaving the house and not realizing it, I still feel like I could be teetering on what feels like a dark abyss - and I fight my way through it, reminding myself that I am blessed beyond belief to have this baby in my life and I want to love her with every ounce of my being. Now that I've gotten the green light from my doctor to exercise, I'm going to try to get out a few times a week to take my little creatures (dog and baby) for a walk around the lake and to get some sun (not hard in LA) because that helps prevent depression too. I also pump a bottle for the baby every night so that Paul can help with one of the night feedings, which allows me to usually sleep for 4-5 hours straight. And when I do need it, Paul takes the baby out so that I can teach, have some alone time, and just collect myself every now and then. This helps a lot too and he enjoys taking her out on joyrides around town. In fact, tonight they are out in Westwood at a dinner while I taught a new student, took a nice long shower, and finally got to blogging again.
So you who are reading this can help keep me accountable. I'm keenly taking steps to fight against a darker place of emotional health, and I'm going to try to be the optimist that I'm not and think positively for once - because as my mom says, if you want your children to be happy, you have to be happy yourself. And when Elisa smiles up at me as she did today after a really big poop, I know she deserves all the happiness in the world.
Here are my two little creatures in our first time together around the lake (about a 2 mile walk).
No comments:
Post a Comment