I had them bad. And the more I talk to other moms, the more I realize how normal they are. Yes, friends told me my hormones would be out of whack. (And they were.) Yes, I heard I might cry a lot. (and I did.) Yes, I heard you feel crazy. (And I REALLY did.) But no one ever told me any specifics about the crazies. So, when I had them, I thought I was losing my mind. I didn't know the person I had become after having a baby, nor did I particularly like her. I'm writing this in a way to help me deal with all my crazy thoughts...it's a little cathartic. I'm also writing it, though, to clear the air. Here are some things that might happen to you or that you might think in your crazy, postpartum head. But it's OK. It's normal. It's better to tell someone about them than to keep them in your crazy head because, at least then, someone can tell you whether it's the normal crazies, or something much more serious.
Everyone tells you "It gets better," "They start sleeping more," "Cherish this time because they grow up fast." And while, yes, it gets better, and yes, they start sleeping more, and yes, they grow SO fast...it still doesn't make anything feel any better and it is little consolation when you are a sleep-deprived, blubbering, crazy mess. There were times when I JUST wanted to be acknowledged for how tired and stressed out I felt...but all I heard (while very kind-hearted and well-meaning) was"It will get better," "He will start sleeping more," and (my personal favorite) "Sleep when he sleeps."
My postpartum partially stemmed from my lack of breastfeeding. I had never realized that there would be a chance that I couldn't breastfeed. I just assumed that when women didn't breastfeed it was because they chose not to (a choice which I looked down on). I wanted to breastfeed. I never wanted to buy formula. I wanted to pump when I went back to work and keep Charlie on breast milk until well past his first year. I tried. And at the hospital, we were doing great. And I loved it. The first day home, we were doing great. And then, the panic struck me. I couldn't/wouldn't sleep. My supply vanished completely. And feeding became this horrible, frantic search for milk that was never coming for Charlie and complete confusion for me. I had no idea he wasn't getting enough until we took him to the doctor and he had lost an entire pound and was dehydrated. Yes, babies are supposed to lose when they leave the womb and usually lose after they leave the hospital. However, not so much so fast that they are basically starving. I talked to a lactation consultant who told me to pump every two hours to increase my supply and to schedule a meeting in a couple of days. So I did. I scheduled my appointment and began power pumping. I pumped for 20 minutes every two hours for 3 days. It was totally exhausting and actually decreased my supply because not only was I up constantly between the baby and the pumping, I was also stressing out about pumping EVERY two hours. Those nights looked like this: try to nurse Charlie, give him a bottle, get him to sleep, pump, try to sleep but he wakes up 30 minutes later, try to nurse him, give him a bottle, get him to sleep, pump, try to sleep but he wakes up within minutes, try to nurse, give him a bottle, get him to sleep, pump, stay awake because I know he'll be up soon anyways...and so on and so on and so on. My supply finally went up when I talked to another lactation consultant who encouraged me to pump every 2 WAKING hours and to SLEEP. I also started taking an herbal supplement, which helped a little, though never enough to fully sustain the life of my child. I pumped for 3 weeks, supplementing the formula, before I got mastitis, which, by the way, is MISERABLE (fever, achy body, breast so sore and swollen that I could barely hold my baby). My supply tanked again with the fever and infection. Then afterwards it never came back. I was spending 20 minutes 5x a day pumping for an ounce or less of breast milk. I decided it wasn't worth it to spend so much time not holding him for less than an ounce. So, he's a formula-fed baby...he's happy, healthy, and perfect. Isn't that the most important thing? The pre-baby me would harshly judge the current formula feeding me. But that's life.
That was the hardest part, knowing that my baby was starving because my body wasn't doing what it was made to do. And the more I stressed, the lower my supply became, and the lower my supply became, the more I stressed...vicious cycle. So I grieved...painfully, unconsolably. I grieved not being able to breastfeed like I had experienced a death in the family. I GRIEVED not being able to breastfeed my baby.
My postpartum manifested in anxiety - uncontrollable, completely irrational, and completely consuming anxiety. I lived in constant fear. CONSTANT. I loved this tiny little boy SO much. I was absolutely terrified that something would happen to him. And it totally consumed me. I was afraid Charlie would die. I was afraid he would choke (this fear stemmed from the hospital when he was constantly vomiting amniotic fluid for the first 12-18 hours after birth). I was afraid that if I left him alone for ANY amount of time (even to go to the restroom) something terrible would happen. I was afraid to let him cry even for a second. (Not that I'm really the "cry it out" kind of mother anyways.) I was afraid I was holding him too much. I was afraid I wasn't holding him enough. And, to be honest, I didn't really want to hold him all the time at first. I do now...but then, I was perfectly happy letting someone else hold him and feed him during the day. I knew that I had the entire night to do that.
Because of my CONSTANT anxiety. I refused to sleep. Well, maybe refused is not exactly the right word, but kind of. I didn't want to sleep because I was sure Charlie would die. I thought that as long as I was awake, he would be fine, but as soon as I closed my eyes, he would stop breathing and die. Thank you SIDS awareness. Scary. And when I wanted to sleep I couldn't. My body was a wreck...so much so, that when I tried to sleep and relax I just lied there and shook. My body was literally shaking from head to toe...and I'm trying to nap? Forget it. I never knew that I might refuse sleep with a newborn who also refused sleep. But I did.
I cried all the time. Happy? Cry. Sad? Cry. Anxious? Cry. Tired? Cry. Overwhelmed? Cry. I cried. ALL. THE. TIME. And usually, I couldn't even tell you why...I didn't even know myself. Who is this crazy, crying, blubbery mess? This is not me. Surely. This is not me.
I dreaded the night. I dreaded the dark. That's usually when the crying would start. And I knew, while my husband slept/semi-slept I wouldn't. I would be up 6 or 7 times, or every 30-60 minutes. And I would cry...because I was so exhausted, because I was so tired, because I had no idea what I was doing wrong.
And then there were the crazy thoughts...Those were hard to stomach. And they are going to be hard for me to write because they are CRAZY and because some of them I've never said out loud to anyone before, much less posted them for all eyes to see. But my blog is all about being honest and putting it all out there. I've heard lots of other moms had similar or exactly the same crazy thoughts, but never told me about them before. So, here they are:
"WHAT were we thinking?"
"Why in the world would anyone want this?"
"The crying will never stop." (mine and his)
"This was a huge, colossal mistake."
"I am NEVER doing this again." (Still haven't stopped saying that one.)
And this one sounds terrible. "What if I shake him?" Let me just tell you, I never once, NEVER, had the urge to shake him. But they make you watch that video at the hospital, like basically telling you that you'll probably get the urge to, and I just kept thinking how bad will this get before that happens.
"I'm a terrible mother."
"This poor baby. I am so sad for him that he landed with this crazy person."
"I don't want to do this anymore."
"What if I drop him?"
"What if he rolls out of the bathtub in the sink and lands on our tile floor?"
"What if we get in a car wreck?"
"What if I fall going down the stairs when I'm holding him?"
"What if one of the dogs bite him?" (This one is funny now b/c they don't even get CLOSE to him.)
What if, what if, what if....
I will admit that I have almost completely recovered from the "New Mommy Crazies" as of right now, though, I still have the occasional night-time anxiety and/or crazy thought or fear. So, yes. It does get better. Yes. Those babies start sleeping more. Yes. You feel a love like you have never felt before. And yes. It is all worth it. But you just don't believe it until you believe it.
I'll just finish with a couple pictures of what you see when you stop being so dang crazy.
