Baby Blues and Sunny News

I mentioned in a previous blog that I would later delve into my emotional roller coaster after birthing Eva. My only reason in exposing this season of my life is to reiterate to myself that I have control over some aspects of this post-birth chemical cascade and to possibly shed some light on a topic that I was ignorant to.

I wouldn't consider myself an emotional person. Unless God whispers a word in my direction, I rarely cry. I have to muster up nostalgia. I would like to think that I handle stress and change with the best of em, rather than cracking at the first upset. My husband would agree with these statements and my best friend would probably make a joke out of them. But, for the most part, I'm not ultra sensitive. Because I know these things about myself, I DID NOT give a flying poop about the "Baby Blues" or "Postpartum Depression" sections in baby books or magazines. In my mind I reasoned, "I'm not an emotional person so this won't be something that I need to research in the midst of my birth/baby studies". And, in my ignorance, I WAS WRONG.

I'm not saying I was clinically depressed. I'm not saying I was singing Barney songs from the rooftops. But, I will say that I was not myself in the first couple weeks/months after having a baby. Crying every day on Brandon's shoulder. Sad about the captivity that I felt had come upon me. Feeling hopeless about ever having time to dry my hair or enjoy a full 15 minute shower ever again. Oh, and I can't forget to mention the physical pain. Nursing was the most painful thing my body has ever endured. I do not say this lightly. I know what you're thinking, "Giving birth had to be more painful than nursing!", but in so many ways it wasn't. For the first 6-8 weeks of nursing, it was as if knives were being stabbed into my chest, 8-12 times a day. These knives were necessary in order to keep my daughter alive and the only person who was able to do that was me. The pressure! Bloody, cracked, sore, and the list goes on. I'll stop with the visuals right there. I think you get the idea.

The combination of the emotional and physical pain was overwhelming. Here is where I SHOULD HAVE reached out for help. Here is where I should have let my pride fall and share with some friends that I was drowning. But for some time, I thought I needed to hold it all together. I needed to put on this "I have it all under control" front. I wore a mask rather than letting the tears drip down my cheek. Daily, I would cry out to the Lord and ask Him to give me joy and ask Him to restore what had been stolen. However, as I reflect, I realize that when we are weak He is so strong. And in His strength, He was telling me to let the walls fall down and come to grips with the fact that I did not have to have it all together and I did not have to keep my emotions "under control".

When Eva was about 6 weeks, I had a major breakthrough in nursing (a change in feeding from one side to both). The physical pain lessened and I was able to enjoy these special moments spent with my babe. Around the same time, I started calling people (my Bradley birth teacher, friends, older moms) and pouring out my soul over the phone. Let me tell you how healing this was to me! Refreshing came during each conversation and I started to learn that judgment had only been placed on me by myself. Others could relate, and to me, that felt freeing. I wasn't alone.

As I sit, days away from welcoming my son into my arms, I hold on to the wisdom that I have gained and realize that there is nothing that I am asked to do alone. I am not perfect and neither is any other mother. I am thrilled to have another opportunity to birth life and experience the only euphoria that new life can bring. BonVoyage baby blues and welcome baby shoes? Baby diapers? Baby skin? Well, something like that.