MY MOTHERHOOD REALITY

Disclaimer: Michael and I found the sim card that was in my phone the first few weeks of Elise’s life, and a picture I took of her after our first night home from the hospital brought back all of these memories of feelings that I’ve almost forgotten that I ever had. It’s easy when you’re so happy to forget what it’s like to be so scared and sad. I want to start off by saying that I was fortunate in that I do not think that I suffered from postpartum depression, but I had what most people call the normal “baby-blues.” A term that sounds so non-threatening, but at the time, felt like I was drowning. I was fortunate in that I was able to talk to Michael, a close friend, and even my doctor for help, and fortunately for me those blue feelings didn’t last long. Postpartum depression is different, life-threatening, and often requires medical intervention. 

I could never really picture what motherhood would be like before Elise was born. I mean, I had an idea, but I knew it was just something I wouldn’t really be able to grasp until I was really living the mom life. In many ways, my days play out exactly like the blissful fantasies I’d dream up during some of those sleepless nights late in my pregnancy. Going to great lengths to hear her giggle, morning snuggles, peaking at her sleeping peacefully while I push her in the jogger and stroll around the park. There have been so many moments that feel so perfect that I can’t believe it’s really my life. I love motherhood. I really do. I feel like I’ve finally found my calling.

But in the name of being perfectly honest, I’ll tell you—I  was scared at first. Like, terrified. She came out. I fell in love with her. And then the panic set in. Not an hour after delivering Ellie I turned to Michelle while Michael watched the nurses do all the newborny things to our daughter and said, “I’m feeling very blue. Is that normal?” She assured me that it was. Hours passed at a rapid speed and then I was in the mother/baby unit around midnight. The nurse gave her to me, showed me where the call button was, and then turned to be on her merry way. I was frantic,

“Wait! Um. Is it an option to have her go to the nursery?”

Prior to delivering, I was certain that that people would have to pry that baby out of my arms, especially while she was so new. But in that moment I was so exhausted, not having slept the night before, and just so scared to be alone with her— a feeling that, after all that anticipation and wanting, I was so not expecting. I swear the nurse made judgey eyes at me when she said, “Yeah, I can take her. We’ll come get you when she gets hungry.”

Then Michael got as comfortable as he could on his little pull-out bed and fell asleep within minutes while I lied awake trying to shake the feeling of doom that was snaking it’s way around my chest, leaving me feeling completely rattled.  I wondered how I’d gone all those years trying to get pregnant, and then that whole nine months carrying my baby girl, without really thinking about how huge of responsibility it was! I mean, I had of course thought about it, but I hadn’t really thought about it. You follow? It was for sure a “What-have-I-done-what-was-I-thinking-how-am-I-gonna-get-out-of-this?” kind of moment. I didn’t sleep at all that night.

The gloomy feelings subsided a bit with the sunrise, as gloomy feelings often do. (Because really, is there a lonelier feeling than lying in the dark while it feels like the entire universe is sleeping?)   My mom came and spent the day with me, nurses were in and out of the room, Michael was by my side when he wasn’t in class…but in those rare moments that I was completely alone with the baby, the fear returned.

However, I decided that I  was excited to start life with my newborn in my own home, and I was happy when they finally wheeled me out of the hospital. But that first night in our apartment as a family of three didn’t go so great. Unaware that our baby was starving due to the fact that my milk hadn’t come in yet (the colostrum was just not cutting it) and cold even though it was June and we didn’t have A/C…we were about an hour and a half into Ellie’s high pitched newborn-scream (that I have now come to know means “Food! Stat!”) when I threw myself on our bed and cried out loud to Michael, “We got a hard baby!” I just knew my life was over.

Michael convinced me that our baby was starving despite my outbursts of “No! She can’t be! I’ve been feeding her for the last hour!” by squeezing my girls to prove that nothing was coming out. Finally he took her from me and said, “I’m making her a bottle.” I sobbed into my pillow. I was failing already. An hour later the high pitched screams were back and I made my way to the living room to find Michael, mid diaper change, holding our half naked baby as she wailed and peed on him. I sank to the floor next to him and started crying too, because you know, I’m super helpful like that.  That’s around the time that my mom (Thank the Lord in Heaven for that woman!) came out of her room, took one look at our pathetic selves, and said, “Give me that baby and go to bed.” She finished diapering her up and then swaddled her. Her cry stopped almost instantly, which somehow made me feel better and worse at the same time. I cried myself to sleep and wondered how I was ever supposed to do this job on my own.

I woke up early the next morning just as the sun was starting to rise. I crept out of my bedroom, made my way down the hall, and found my sweet, perfect little baby sleeping happily in her pac’n’play.

I felt so guilty that she spent her first night in our apartment sleeping alone. She looked so angelic, and while  I looked at her, I instantly knew three things. The first was that I loved her so, so much, the second was that this was going to be a very hard job, and the third thing was that someday I would long for this phase, even the tough nights like the one I had just lived through the night before.  I prayed right then and told Heavenly Father that I was so grateful he sent me that little girl and that I was scared, but happy. The lyrics to Darius Rucker’s song, “It Won’t Be Like This For Long,” came to mind:

He didn’t have to wake up He’d been up all night Lying there in bed listening To his newborn baby cry He makes a pot of coffee He splashes water on his face His wife gives him a kiss and says It’s gonna be OKIt won’t be like this for long One day soon we’ll look back laughing At the week we brought her home This phase is gonna fly by So baby just hold on It won’t be like this for long

I prayed for help in not wishing these days away. I prayed that I would remember that they would be brief. I prayed for the fear to be replaced with faith. I prayed for confidence that I could do this.

Here I am, not even quite four months later and the days where I was scared already feel so distant, like it was a different life time. I already wish I could relive that night by comforting my sweet newborn by holding her to my chest, something she’s already grown out of. I know that not every new mom has a frazzled moment like I did, but if you do, just know that you aren’t alone. And never hesitate to seek help. And try so hard to remember that it won’t be like this for long.