baby blues
EDIT: This is one of the entries I’ve been scared to share since I’ve come out of the fog of the fourth trimester. Re-reading it breaks me because it’s as though a stranger wrote it. But, I think it’s important to be honest about it because this is the darkness I experienced, and have grown from. People don’t talk about these things and the not talking about it makes it harder for each person going through it, to feel like they are ever going to be ok again. Its alienating feeling like this, its embarrassing and heartbreaking, but these experiences are not rare, they are more common then we know… and there is a note at the end to update you on how things are now, because our experience now is so different than this beginning.
When we talk about birth we focus on the first three trimesters, but it’s the fourth trimester that might be the most moving one to experience because it’s the one we aren’t prepared for. And, it’s the one we have the littlest control over. It’s also the one where we are going though it with a brand new person in our lives. It’s us and our little baby, who’s come earth side, where everything is new, and their whole existence depends on us.
At one month old, he’s in the fourth trimester where technically he should still be in the womb. They say babies come too soon and that’s why in the fourth trimester we spend much of our time replicating the womb, where they should still be, but due to human’s bodies; they cannot be.
And as we focus on this new life, we don’t realize that there are actually two new lives present. That of your little babe, but also your new life as a mom where everything is different.
Just after was born. Us three. Photo by Agnes of Northern Wildflower
While going through instagram today I read the caption under a birth photo:
“Birth is certainly an emotional time for everyone. It’s a moment no one can explain unless it happens to you” - @babyprepping
It hit home and hard. I feel like no one gets just how deep these emotions are tearing me apart. I feel like I'm having an out of body experience looking at myself break down with nothing in me to stop it from happening. My whole world has shifted. Nothing is the same. I'm numb to everything & everyone. It's like I'm in a box scratching my way to get out, knowing that I may never get out. There is a constant fear of failure and a loneliness in every moment of my day and so many days since his birth. And I hate myself for this. I never imagined this would be the way it is for me. Never. I feel like a failure and I’m so scared that I’m not the mother this sweet boy deserves.
It hasn’t been easy, or even close. He’s not a sleepy baby during the day, just nights which is our saving grace. But he’s only a month old and I am learning that things change, and change over and over again. The minute I think I have it figured out, something shifts and there is a new thing to figure out.
The easiest part is when our days end around nine where he falls asleep until 1:30am, I change his diaper, he feeds, then falls back asleep until 4am, then I change his diaper, then feeds, then falls back asleep around 5:30am when he wakes. And there it begins.
He wakes grunting and crying. He’s arching and kicking his legs. Nothing soothes him. He’s mad, he’s uncomfortable and it wakes us in a panic. Even though it’s every morning for the past two weeks. We’ve seen a doctor, we’ve tried baby massage, we do bicycle legs, we’ve seen an osteopath, I’ve gone off coffee, I’ve gone off dairy. But, every morning is the same. I’ll change him while he fusses, hoping that will fix it. It doesn’t. Then bring him into our bed. I’ll rub his belly. I shush him. I feed him, or attempt to, but as he roots for the boob that is right there, he just spills the milk instead of drinking it. I’m soaked in milk, but I keep trying. I change my position, then change it again and again. I end up standing, rocking and feeding. I’m sore, I’m still healing, my incision is tender as he often kicks when I’m trying to find another position to settle him. I’ll keep him upright to help with his tummy after he feeds a bit, and he kicks my healing incision. I go back to feeding again as he roots again. I stand holding him, feeding him and soon the motion while feeding soothes him and he settles into it eventually. By this time, it’s been over an hour.
Then we move out of the bedroom, to break up the day that’s pretty much just a cycle of soothing, feeding, standing, rocking, shushing, changing, feeding, soothing, standing, and on and on. We don't know what to do. He refuses to sleep during the day. Eventually we find a win that he will sleep in the wrap, but it has to be in motion. If I stop, he wakes, If I sit, he wakes. My body aches. I’m tired. I’m sore. I try to find ways to rest while rocking him or swaying or just moving enough to keep him asleep, but the minute I rest, he wakes crying. And it begins again.
In the quiet moments, when my husband is home, I try to find a way to embrace the company. For the most part, I’m alone with my son. Married to someone who travels a lot of the time, with no control over when that travel is; well it’s hard and it’s lonely. We are only a month deep and my husband’s been barely home. I spend the days and nights mostly alone with the baby, with a revolving door of a handful of girlfriends sleeping on my couch to help me during the evenings (and a night doula on the rare occasion when I can’t ask for help anymore and know that I can’t do it alone). It’s their company I need the most, because being alone is hard. I think too much then, and question too much then. And, I live in a headspace of feeling abandoned by my partner.
When he does come home, it doens’t always get better. Our relationship is being strained and it's breaking my heart.
Sentences like "why did we do this?" and "will we ever get our old life back?" are said and I feel like all the blame is on me. I wanted this, but so did he. Did he not know what it would be like? I mean, I thought I did, but truthfully this was more than I ever could imagine. But still, I knew there would be hard days, I just didn’t know it would be like this. Did he not know about the hard days? Maybe the fact that we have had almost a month of only hard days is why he says these things? Our only conversations are about fixing the problem and the more we can’t seen to find the light, the deeper the darkness sets in.
Our fight escalates, Oscar's cries get worse, and I breakdown. I text my midwife. I was afraid I would be in trouble for texting because I didn't know if the meltdown Oscar was having was an emergency or just his normal, but after days of these constant meltdowns, I couldn't do it. Our midwife called me back within minutes and while shushing my one month old who was screaming in my arms while I moved back and forth in our dark closet, hoping the dark would put him to sleep, I cried on the phone and told her everything. She tells us that he might be going through a growth spurt or just have had gone through one and that my milk might not be as much as he needs. That he needs to build it up. That I should really just spend the next day or two with him in bed, skin to skin, breast feeding and sleeping. That we should just be together. And so, I lay on my bed and do that. For three hours he feeds, then fights the boob, then feeds, the falls asleep on the boob, but as soon as I move, he wakes and cries. So I feed him and we keep going like this the cries get intense and long, and I break down exhausted & feeling like a total failure.
The only light is that by nine pm he always finds sleep and we find a break. But, tomorrow will be the same most likely. No matter how much I will it to be better. I will wonder all day why this is happening. Is it my payback for a great pregnancy? Yet, I feel like our birth was payback enough. Maybe his fussiness has something to do with the trauma we went through from the birth? Maybe it's gas? Everyone says it will pass. Everyone says it will be 3 months and then the light will shine. Others say 6 months. Anthony snickered today and said probably not until 6 years old.
I'm sad beyond a sadness I never knew in myself. I feel like everything I imagined about having a baby isn't so. I pass the time while feeding scrolling through instagram where other people with babies the same age as Oscar share cute photos of them and their babies. Selfies scroll through my feed of happy babies. Babies wearing the same outfits I got Oscar but wonder if I'll ever get a cute photo of him in before he grows out of it. Mom's doing instagram live chats while their babies sleep, where the moms looks amazing with washed hair, full makeup and probably brushed teeth. More photos of babies just hanging out, not screaming like ours does. Maybe I'll post a photo of me breast feeding which is the only time he's content & awake, but wait, I look like I've been run over by three trucks and don't really feel like I want to share anything.
I hope things change soon. I hope my heart finds a happiness in motherhood. I'm sad because I know without a doubt I wanted this. And, I wanted to bond with my baby, make funny faces, hear him coo, see him smile, dress him in his cute clothing, dance around the kitchen with him in my arms to our favourites songs, snuggle until he falls asleep, take cute selfies of him sleeping and all the things I've been seeing other moms do for the past couple of years we've talked about growing our family. Maybe our baby is just difficult and we don't get to have a story like the people I see loving motherhood, or maybe they are just really good at sharing the rare moment they get this sort of win.
*** update on May 10th, 2019 …. almost a year after this was written. Things do get better. There was a light. I found my footing. For me and Oscar, we found our connection and motherhood has changed my world for the better. I love him with a love I cannot describe, and am honoured to be his mom. He giggles all day. He sleeps now too. Great big naps and although sleep isnt perfect and he’s up to party at 5:30am everyday this week, he’s actually a pretty easy baby. He fusses when he’s tired, and then he’ll sleep. He fusses when hungry, so he eats. Champion eater too. He smiles and giggles and he’s only ten months now and he is walking. He runs to me and falls into my arms for hugs. He motorboats me to really hit home he’s hungry and he’ll sit with me playing with toys. And when he smiles at me, my heart melts. For me and Anthony, we still have hards days but we’ve found our footing as parents and we’ve also made sure to remember we are partners and that we need us time. We’ve also been able to talk about what we went through and coming to terms that PPD happens for men, and it happened for my man, has shined a light onto so much of the events that took place those beginning months. It’s hard for us, more my husband, to look at photos of our son’s newborn time . because it reminds us of the darkness. But, we also remind ourselves how much we’ve learned and how we survived, and will continue to learn, heal and work on ourselves to be the best parents to our son possible and the best partner to each other ever.