So after the baby finally comes - you get to go home and be a happy little family. Right!?
Eventually, yes. However, as many "what to expect" and "new mom" books foretell, after the baby exits, your body starts re-calibrating itself. The first few days to weeks are intense. There's physical healing that needs to take place, returning your bits to their new "normal". There's a flush of retained fluids, and hormones are all over the place. All while navigating sleep deprivation and being chewed-on (if you're BF). You're also having to take a crash course in a new "language", that of your newborn's cues and cries.
So even after reading 'those' mom books and tons of webMB cites, I didn't notice when the crying started. Latching was a huge issue and nursing was torturous. I cried through a good bit of it. Felt guilty that she may share in my anguish -- so I tried sucking it up. White-nukling the glider, biting my lip, holding my breath. Anything to make it past the pain and allow my baby to nurse. Tho in truth, in my head I called it "feeding" -- as in those Dracula stories when they suck the life out of the willing victim -- I felt drained.
Throughout my pregnancy I was reactive to little things (as expected), touchy commercials, songs, words. Many things sent me "face-leaking" (as my husband called it). Later, as it turned out, the faucet kept going with little if any prompts. I remember several times just sitting in my orange glider and quietly crying. The kind where your eyes fill-up and spill over and nothing gets them to stop until they are done. Until they dry and puffy.
My thoughts were all over the place but mostly, there was an abundance of guilt, doubt, and exhaustion. The baby blues, stuck around for almost 2 months if not a little longer. Guilt at having a hard time latching the baby. Guilt at not wanting to nurse because the pain was so awful it felt like my soul was being pierced. Guilt at finally supplementing her with formula and allowing myself to heal.
And when that weight of sadness wrapped in guilt wrapped in self doubt started to lift much to the credit of the tons of loving family and friends that surrounded us -- I returned to my art. It let me focus on my previous hopes and dreams of what my daughter would be like. A dreamer, a lover of nature, an explorer. A beautiful shinning soul.
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| Late one August night. |
So even after reading 'those' mom books and tons of webMB cites, I didn't notice when the crying started. Latching was a huge issue and nursing was torturous. I cried through a good bit of it. Felt guilty that she may share in my anguish -- so I tried sucking it up. White-nukling the glider, biting my lip, holding my breath. Anything to make it past the pain and allow my baby to nurse. Tho in truth, in my head I called it "feeding" -- as in those Dracula stories when they suck the life out of the willing victim -- I felt drained.
Throughout my pregnancy I was reactive to little things (as expected), touchy commercials, songs, words. Many things sent me "face-leaking" (as my husband called it). Later, as it turned out, the faucet kept going with little if any prompts. I remember several times just sitting in my orange glider and quietly crying. The kind where your eyes fill-up and spill over and nothing gets them to stop until they are done. Until they dry and puffy.
My thoughts were all over the place but mostly, there was an abundance of guilt, doubt, and exhaustion. The baby blues, stuck around for almost 2 months if not a little longer. Guilt at having a hard time latching the baby. Guilt at not wanting to nurse because the pain was so awful it felt like my soul was being pierced. Guilt at finally supplementing her with formula and allowing myself to heal.
And when that weight of sadness wrapped in guilt wrapped in self doubt started to lift much to the credit of the tons of loving family and friends that surrounded us -- I returned to my art. It let me focus on my previous hopes and dreams of what my daughter would be like. A dreamer, a lover of nature, an explorer. A beautiful shinning soul.
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| She will be amazing.
My baby blues eventually diminished and I was able to be more like myself -- my new mommy self is still in the works. But that isn't always the case with everyone and husbands aren't immune. For more reading and support on the topic of postpartum blues/depression check out these cites:
Previous posts cover what it was like getting to this point: first trimester, second-third trimesters, and what were some of my labor truths.
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