Mama Needs A Moment: The Postpartum Diaries
One Month Postpartum
Highlights:
*I can now sleep on my back! I have been looking forward to this for sometime. But just because I can, doesn't mean I do. In fact, I don't sleep on my back. I sleep on my side, my faces inches from the bassinet, listening for his breathing, and his little noises that let me know he's about to wake up.
*I can now scoot my chair all the way in at the dinner table! This is especially exciting at my mom's house, where space is tight in the kitchen.
Picture this: It's 10:30PM. You take the sleeping baby from your spouse to put him down for the night, but realize he has a full diaper. You begin to change him--rookie mistake--but by some miracle, he stays sleepy. Suddenly, a thin stream of pee shoots up past your baby's head, soaking him, the changing mat, the couch. You thrust your hand forward to cover little buddy's little buddy, but it's too late, the damage has been done. "We need to give him a bath," you say. Your spouse looks at you, a mutual feeling of exhaustion stretching between you. "Right now?" she says. Yep. Right. Now.
No one could have possibly prepared us for parenthood--it's on the job training. We knew having him would be an adjustment. We knew we would be tired. But holy cannoli. Seriously, if someone has his instruction manual and you are withholding it as a joke, we are not friends. Leave it at the door, no contact drop-off, and walk away.
In my last blog I talked about the new meaning "it takes a village to raise a child" had taken on. It is even truer now. I never thought I'd need--or ask for--help. Everyone says, "If you need me to come over and hold the baby for an hour while you nap/shower/do laundry, let me know!" What a nice thing for people to say, I would think. I want to go back and shake myself and say,
"Lookie here, cupcake--say yes. Take them up on it. Your laundry will be piled up. You will be covered in fluids--so many fluids. You will be ex-haus-ted. When they offer, for the love of God, say yes!"
Actually, it didn't take long for me to give in and start asking for help once Chelsey went back to work. There was a day where I texted a friend and asked if she could come over the next day just so I could make a phone call. I hadn't gotten to it that day because baby boy was either in my arms sleeping or crying. All. Day. Long. And it was not long after that, that when Chelsey suggested I go by my mom's so she could take care of him and I could sleep, that I cried, big fat tears rolling down my cheeks, because it wasn't until she said that that I realized just how tired I was.
Even on the toughest days, this is still my favorite job. But this is hard. Some days are really good and I feel like I've finally got it figured out. Some days, Everett and I take turns crying. Or cry together. Before we left the hospital, the nurse made sure to tell us to be on the lookout for signs of postpartum depression, one of which was crying without a reason. On the really tough days, I would laugh through my tears as I reminded Chelsey that she shouldn't worry, because I always had a reason. There have definitely been days where I've doubted myself. Days I've felt like a bad mom. Days when I've been frustrated and overwhelmed. There are some things you just don't know, until you know. Showering is now a sacred and precious thing, because it is the one time I am alone, and no one is demanding anything of my body but me--and all I'm asking it to do is stand there. But there are so many good and beautiful moments that overshadow everything else.
I digress. After nearly three weeks of camping out on the couch, we finally moved upstairs. I was so excited to sleep in my bed. I was so wrong about being able to sleep in my bed. Everett didn't want to sleep in his bassinet, and, as I'm learning, sometimes baby calls the shots. He and I spent a majority of the next few nights together in the recliner--just feet away from my bed. In between nursing and dozing, I would gaze at my empty side longingly: pillows perfectly fluffed, sheets pulled back invitingly. It took a few more days, and some advice from a friend, to ease him into the bassinet, and now he has no problem sleeping there for the 2-3 hours in between feedings.
I'm not sure where the last month has gone. At work, a month takes approximately 8 years; at home with Rett, it takes about 8 seconds. Time is really irrelevant in the 4th trimester, though. Honestly, there is no point in pretending you have a schedule. Or in setting a certain time you will do something. For the first week and a half, babe seemed to have a schedule. After that...not so much. He developed a "witching hour" (if you know, you know) that would happen every night between 7-10PM...often for longer than an hour. Around week three we learned about cluster feeding, as he entered his first growth spurt. Essentially, instead of eating every 2-3 hours, it was every 20 mins-1 hour. Super un-fun for mama, because she had no idea what the heck was happening. There was a lot of Google searching that happened that week. I read out loud to him the parts that said that along with cluster feeding, he should be SLEEPING MORE. It was on every site, in every article, but completely lost on my son.
Around this time I also set up an appointment with our pediatrician to get some help with breastfeeding. No one tells you how hard it is. I really struggled--some days, I'm still struggling. It is such an incredible thing to be able to sustain and nourish his little life with my own body. But also a frustrating thing when it isn't going as well as I want it to. I can be quoted as saying, "I hate everything about breastfeeding, except the fact that it feeds my son." That's not entirely true. But at 2:30AM, when there is milk dripping everywhere, and he won't latch, and the nipple shield is falling off, that's just how I feel.
Anyhow, at this appointment, the doctor noticed that Rett turns his head to one side more than the other. They call it torticollis. She recommended a physical therapist to us, and we were able to get in to see her the next day. I really enjoy working with her, because she not only works with him on stretching out, but with both of us on breastfeeding. Essentially, it all goes hand in hand. So in the last two weeks I've been feeling more confident in nursing, and it seems to be getting easier.
Which leads me to my next one month realization...getting out of the house with a newborn is HARD. Trying to get both of us ready, a diaper bag packed, him in the car seat without crying...it's a lot. This little boy does not like to be put down, which means even if I get him ready on time, I have to get myself ready while he cries and cries, and it breaks my heart. Even if the diaper bag is packed and ready ahead of time, the second I put him in the car seat, he cries and cries. Since he isn't able to keep his pacifier in on his own, this often means he cries all the way to PT, which thankfully isn't far. With the nice weather we've had recently, I've wanted to get out for walks, but the same story applies. It's hard to get out the door, and once we are out, there's no guarantee we will stay there.
I know I'm missing some things, but thinking about everything we've experienced, caring for this sweet little babe in the last month (now 6 weeks!), I have to say one thing: I'm sorry for any time I have ever judged someone else's parenting. I will never judge your parenting again. Okay, well that may not be true...as a teacher, I am privy to a lot of things that go on in people's homes. But with this new perspective, I've realized that even when I'm thinking to myself, "Oh my, what goes on in that house?" I need to remember that those parents, too, were in the trenches of this phase, and SURVIVED. This is not easy! So so worth it, but damn has this learning curve been steep. Oh, and single parents--you da real MVPs. I honestly don't know how you do it. You are warriors.
Rett is getting so big so fast. I am not wishing away any of these moments...but also, I can't wait to see what happens next!
