Postpartum Depression (For Me)

So here's a run-down. I feel like this is all so obvious but maybe not.

Post-partum depression . . . an interesting animal. It sneaks up on you unexpectedly. Later than you think, usually.

I didn't get the baby blues, I had an awesome immediate post-partum experience. My hubby was home for a whole month, my baby was easy, my birth was great, breastfeeding . . . . honestly was painful for a long time but since everything else was so good it was not an issue to get through that first painful month (which in retrospect was a combination of oversupply, minor tongue tie, and lip tie, all unidentified until much later).

And yet I didn't love my baby. I mean I did in one way. Of course I loved him very much. But my heart was like a vice. I admired his cuteness, felt peaceful and loving when breastfeeding . . . but when I looked at him my heart did not move. Do you know when you look at someone you love, esp after a long time? Your heart swoops out before you to meet them, and then holding them, or seeing them, or being with them, is like reembracing your own heart again . . . ? Your heart moves when you love people--swoops, plunges, chokes you sometimes . . .

My heart just did not move for him and intellectually I know I loved him and I felt it on some level but . . . my heart was a vice. I protected myself seriously and, to some extent, consciously, against connecting with him until he was over the worst time period for SIDS . . . I was afraid, after taking 3 years to conceive him, having multiple miscarriages . . . I just didn't want to love him too much until I was sure this was really it for us . . . Really, now in retrospect, without emotion but with logic, SIDS is SO rare and usually affected by so many risk factors that we don't have . . . but that was my fear at the time and I owned it shamelessly.

So this started to lift around 5 months . . . and still I was okay, honestly, just, hard in my heart, but softening.

But then teething started at 6 months. Crawling started at 7.5 months. And it was almost like I went from being afraid I would lose him to suddenly losing myself. Losing my life.

I like writing. (Blogs, Message Boards, Facebook, etc). It helps me. But I couldn't do it with him crawling. I had to watch him at every second. I had to spend every moment trying to transform my world into a baby-safe place, so that I COULD have more than a second alone or to eat, or to shower, or . . .

And writing isn't the only thing I like to do--but suddenly it's like the hard-won independence of adulthood--which I had so longed for and wished for as a child--the ability to control my own life--which I ran at, like a horse out of the gate, as a teenager . . . this independence was suddenly, once again, gone. No one explained to me that 18 until when you have kids is the only time that you are actually independent and making decisions for your own best interests (and when your kids are grown, I suppose).

I didn't realize I was in like this "special freedom zone" but now in retrospect, other parents did attempt to tell me with things like: "Wait until they are crawling" "It all changes after you have kids" "Enjoy your sleep now", etc. You just don't realize that all of these things will get into your PSYCHOLOGY. That you will feel GUILT about the resentment of your lost freedom, you will feel CONFLICTED about your child, to feel such strong love for one who simultaneously demands SO much ALL THE TIME. It's emotionally and psychologically extremely challenging. I don't know if it's not something you can explain to someone, or if people just haven't done it well enough . . .

Anyway, things started to go downhill for me around 7.5-8 months, though honestly my whole "detached-out-of-fear" thing probably didn't set me up really nicely there, either . . . and the very worst was from like 7.5-11.5 months--for him, and honestly so much of it was related to teething. He became such a different child when his first 7 were in and we had a long break there for awhile. For me the stress continued through a haze of 1st birthday party (Nov 19th), Thanksgiving and related travel (20th-26th), and Christmas, and cleaning up from Christmas.

But in spite of this, I had really started to enjoy this independent, communicative toddler, down to nursing 6ish times a day . . . I LOVED not having to constantly manage meds and homeopathic teething solutions . . . I LOVED having a predictable 2-nap day and a baby who was easy peasy to put to sleep! I LOVED IT.

And stupidly I thought it was all related to him getting older. NOPE. TURNS OUT IT WAS ALL RELATED TO A BREAK FROM F'ING TEETHING. Now his molars are coming in and I feel like I've been dropped right back into hell. I'm such a freaking "put the bad stuff out of my mind" sort of person that I forget within a week how awful it was with him teething. But now it's back and . . . I don't know, I'd just started feeling normal and like I was feeling better. Now the idea of having to deal with this teething/clingyness/constant nursing/refusing to eat/refusing to nap/needing to constantly medicate/etc sort of baby for possibly another YEAR??! It's honestly panic-inducing.

I think I might need to step up my pharmacology. Taking adderall every day DOES help me manage my life. But I think it's . . . missing the major issue at this point.

And like I have the F'ing energy to sort through like 15 crappy psychiatrists to find one who will actually listen to and respect me and the fact that my system is SUPER sensitive and I will want to try a VERY VERY low dose, and communicate in more detail about what my options are and what diagnos(es?) I fit, etc . . . like I really have the energy to do that.

James the Hubby is home with me today because . . . I needed a mental health sick day from being a Mommy.

Hi to Another Kid

Sometimes I think you read this, and this is what I always wanted to tell you.

I hate that I couldn't keep my promise to be there for you no matter what.
I still think often about this and feel very regretful. You did not need another broken promise in your life--I am so sorry.

What happened with me was NOT your fault. If you have any guilt about this . . . the idea that you might have any guilt about this is one of the hardest things for me, so hopefully you don't.

I fell into a trap that many young and inexperienced people in my position fall into--to become friends. I needed training on how to set proper boundaries and I didn't get it. It has taken a lot of therapy to realize I was not entirely to blame for my misjudgments, just as a teenager who does not get the right support is not entirely to blame for their misjudgments...

I really, really, hope that . . . I helped you. It's all I wanted to do, even though I might not have been smart enough about it.

I can't tell you how proud it makes me to see that you have held down the same job for quite awhile now, that you have a real girlfriend--that you are smiling, that you seem happy, as much as I can tell from cyberspace . . .

I wish the world was a different place where people who felt like family could just be family . . . in my heart you will always be my kid. My son who I am SO proud of, for whom I have SUCH high hopes. You can do anything you set your mind to--so pick something good that makes you happy and do it--do it every day so that the joy of it sings through your soul.

I have thought and thought these things for so long . . . so I'm just saying them, here, and hoping the message finds your ear along the winds somewhere in time.

Travel with A Little/How I Missed my Flight/Wednesday

Okay, probably because I was in denial about the difficulty/work aspect, pretty much no one knew that I was taking a vacation, with james, for a week, and then James is meeting us for the final few days . . .

We are now in Jacksonville, FL, until Monday morning. We are here visiting my cousin Dave and our new little cousin Parker--this will be my first time meeting Parker!

Our flight was SUPPOSED TO be Wednesday at 1:30, land at 3:30, check into the hotel and have a leisurely night settling in, and then see Dave, Tracy, and Parker on Thursday. However . . . we missed our flight. :-/

I will say that both me, and my Dad who was driving me, tends to cut it close in terms of arrival. We are not the type to sit around the airport. We like to arrive and board.

Well. I discovered that my strategy with a baby in tow (especially when I'm alone) is going to have to change.

I checked in more than an hour before my flight (I think? I was in line to check my baggage for a LONG time). And then I went through security . . . which took FOR.EV.ER. They made me take the baby out of the carrier, take my laptop bag out of my carryon, take my laptop out of it's bag, put everything in separate bins that they were running out of . . . then I had to put it all back together on the other side. And I wasn't even rushing! I had NO CLUE that the time was running down.

I think I was just so concerned with the baby and being alone that I just . . . wasn't even thinking it was that close!

But I got through security, looked at the board to find my gate number, and the flight was already closed. WHAT THE HELL? So I ran there, and started pleading with the attendant.

"The plane is there, I can see it!"
"Sorry miss we already closed the doors."
AHHHHHHHHHHHH
Then the pilot arrives, and looks at me sweating my balls off and clinging to my baby . . .
"Please!" I say, "please, I just got here and I ran straight from security, I didn't even stop to go the bathroom! And my carseat is on that plane!" Waaaaaaaaaaaa
"Can you let this lady on?" he asks the attendant.
"We closed the doors, sir."
"Well, are you going to open them to let me on? Yeah? Well let's get this girl on, too."
"I could kiss you!" I tell him.
"Don't worry," he says with a wink, "I'll get you on this plane. I won't leave without you."
Phew.
And then he emerges a minute later.
"ummm, I didn't realize this, all the seats are full."
"You sold my seat?"
At this point I'm totally deflated, thank the pilot sincerely for his efforts, and make my way slowly over to customer service. They give me a ticket for an 8:30 flight (my original flight was at 1:30).

I sigh and hunker down--ie, walk the baby to sleep in the ergo, have a glass of wine, make friends with EVERYONE in the airport--bartender lady who looks like my cousin Nikki (but is Colombian, not Italian), magazine stand lady, shoe shine guy, costumer service guy, custodian . . . various other passengers. James charmes and wows even through extreme tiredness--that half-hour nap while I drank my wine is the last sleep I will get out of him until 11pm . . . but I try. I probably literally paced the area around my luggage for three hours straight.

So 8:30 eventually arrives, and they invite those with small kids to board first. And now, I find out for the first time that my ticket? Is actually a stand-by ticket. I am not guaranteed to get on the plane. So then I really flip out--poor customer service guy feels awful because there's nothing he can really do.

At this point I realize I am not alone. I'm not the only one who missed this flight, not the only one on standby. I'm joined by a Mom/Aunt/Grandma? with two young littles, and an entire other family . . . about 10 of us missed the original flight, and apparently they sold ALL of our tickets . . . um. Something is wrong here. JFK needs a kids/family line.

Anyway, me and the Mom/Aunt with the two littles manage to get on. THANK GOD. The flight is fairly awful, but at this point, I'm just grateful to be there. james hadn't slept, as I mentioned, and was practically hysterically beside himself with exhaustion. I really needed to walk him but they kept the seat-belt sign on the ENTIRE time, even though it was like 5-10 mins of smooth sailing, 1 min of shakiness . . . so he fussed and fussed and FINALLY nursed to sleep in the ergo.

So, we arrive, pick up our luggage, I get my rental car, and here I am, at 12 midnight. james plays happily, standing in the back of the car while I SWEAT BULLETS in the steamy Florida weather--can't believe it feels this much like a jungle at midnight, and attempt to install the carseat. GOD IT TAKES FOREVER!

But we're in, we're on our way--I get to my hotel. james is asleep in the car now, and I have been told by the hotel guy that my key will be in an envelope with my name on it in a black mailbox. And sure, I'm exhausted beyond belief, but I'm not seeing any black anywhere around?

So I'm wandering around looking confused at 1 am, and I catch the attentions of slightly-drunk guy.
"Well HELLO, you look like you need some help!"
"Do you work here?"
"Hahahah, No."
I appraise slightly drunk guy, who looks like he is half-hobbit, and decide he is no threat to me.
"I'm looking for this mailbox . . . "
He ends up finding the mailbox for me, which is not at all black or looking like a normal mailbox . . . ?
"Wow thank you so much!"
"Sooooo, what brings you to Jacksonville?" he asks, as I walk the few steps back to my car.
"Well, I'm visiting my cousin."
"Oh, why are you visiting?"
"Well, he had a baby a few months ago, and so did I!" I point to james sleeping in his carseat.
"Oh!" I have surprised the drunk hobbit, but he rallies.
"Well," he holds out his hand and I go to shake it, but he turns it around, "but, there's no ring here!"
"That's because it's here," I say, and show him my left hand. At this point I'm . . . LOL . . . it's just funny, and I'm smiling . . .
I have to give the hobbit a nod for persistence though, because he still gives me his room number and tells me if I need ANYTHING, to come find him. Okay dude, LOL.

So then I finally get in my room, and take the bed apart while holding the critically overtired and screaming baby, mattress on the floor, because I'm too tired, and I don't trust myself to keep a grip on the little man for the entire night . . . boxspring leaning up against the wall, bedframe in the bathroom.

And finally we sleep. Phew.

Note to self. Arrive early to airport in the future. Keep track of time/flight while going through security.

The Last Two Months

It's been a long ass time since I did a substantive update. I honestly think the last two--well, one month really, have been the most challenging for me as a parent so far . . .

Started crawling at 7.5 months, a week later was pulling up, a week later was cruising. Since then it's been a lot of all of those things: lots of balance and strength training. For the first couple weeks he was just CONSTANTLY falling with bumps and bruises all over his head. Thankfully he's better at it all now and, also, I think, more used to falling.

And so baby proofing began. Add this to the mental list of things I said I wouldn't do and am now doing. The main problem here is not that my house wasn't baby proofed, but that it wasn't CLEAN. And, I've learned by now that some people apologize for the state of their house and really it is immaculate? I'm not like that. If my house was semi-clean, I would admit it . . .

I'm a "throw things to the side when I am done with them willy-nilly" sort of person. And a "out of sight is out of mind" sort of person. And a "I won't look down" sort of person, LOL! Add all these together with having a husband that is the same and four cats? And an ant's view of my house would be like "cloudy with a chance of meatballs (and cat hair)."

The first few weeks/days of crawling were like . . . I would look away for a second (to try to clean and/or baby proof something, usually) look back, and james would be bringing a (clump of cat hair/bit of stale food/leaf/etc) to his mouth and I would run over and excavate. Or I would look away for a second, and then hear a thump and he'd be crying with another red lump on his head . . . or pulling on wires, or pulling the vacuum on top of him, or climbing the stairs, or eating cat food or . . .

If it was JUST baby proofing--JUST figuring out what he was able to reach and making sure it was safe for him--well, that I think I could have handled? Or not even done!

But it was more like, all of my life I've been trying to:
-Have a daily routine
-Get exercise
-Keep my house clean

And in the last two months, finally I've achieved it. (Almost). But it was a hard transition for me. It's a lot of work to keep your house clean. I see now why I avoided it for so long.

But we are pretty much done, now. Well, what I am learning is that you are never done. BUT, our entire downstairs is now pretty much safe and accessible to james. And honestly I like it. I love it. It's nice that I can turn my back on james for awhile now, without worrying about what infinitesimal speck of poison he was able to eat.

And honestly it's sort of awesome to have a clean house. AND to have a routine. Another thing that happened over the past two months. Here's pretty much what we do now:

james wakes up between 5-6, nurses awhile, crawls all over us until we get up.
Dad changes the baby's diaper
I get up between 7-7:30, dress me and james
Then I take james on a walk--I'm up to about 1.5 miles a day!
He falls asleep on this first walk, sleeps 8-9 outside in his stroller
While he sleeps, I start laundry, straighten the living room, eat breakfast if I'm lucky, etc.
james wakes up, play a bit
Nurse and Pump around 9:30
After nursing, eat breakfast
While he eats, I load/unload the dishwasher, deal with the breast milk, other kitchen cleaning
Clean up baby, possible sink bath, possible outfit change, change diaper at least
Read books
james takes 2nd nap, 11-12
While he sleeps, I eat again or for the first time, do laundry and other cleaning.
Wake up, nurse, play, read books
Back to sleep at 2--if I'm lucky this is a long nap. I need a real break by now but if I was really smart I would use this time to prepare dinner?
Wake up, nurse, eat food again around 4:30
Clean up baby, possible sink bath, possible outfit change, change diaper at least
And then I'm not sure because I think he's dropping his evening nap, and lengthening the afternoon nap? (I hope!) Anyway, we eat dinner in there somewhere, sans le bebe.
Dad changes into nighttime diaper and PJ's, reads books, Momma nurses
Baby sleeps 7:15-8:30 in swing
After wakeup, LONG NURSING in bed with Momma to sleep.
And then ideally he would sleep until we went to bed at 11-12 and then nurse again.

So yeah, I think we are doing pretty good!

But it has been a challenging few months. I was prepared to take care of a newborn, for some reason (well, I had an easy one, too!)--I don't mind nursing a lot, or holding a little baby, or changing lots of diapers. But I don't think I was prepared for the adorable baby to become mobile. I was in denial and totally held out . . . I saw he was starting to learn to crawl--I should have started baby proofing then! But I didn't realize how fast it would be.

I'm slow. I do house projects on several year time lines (hence the fact that our "nursery" is still full of random crap). But babies don't grow slow. They grow fast. So I'm continually getting kicked in the pants but HONESTLY? It's good for me, and I appreciate it! But change is hard.

And learning how to take care of my house, my self, FINALLY, after 28 years? Is hard, too. . . it took a baby to motivate me, but it feels good . . .

BUT it's not the only thing I need to take care of my self.

I'm realizing that I need this blog. I need to write, I need to take pictures. While I've been baby proofing and cleaning and organizing my entire life and house, something else inside me has been neglected. Things stir which have not been released.

So, in the words of Yoda: Balance Find I Must.

Silent Saturday: Crying it Out Together