Post-Partum: My Story

Yep, I'm going there.  This is the post I so longed to read when I was neck-deep in post-partum emotions.  I just wanted to relate to SOMEONE.  To know that I wasn't alone.  To feel the camaraderie of other women who had experienced similar emotions and made it to the other side in one piece.  My life has generally been pretty drama-free.  Minimal painful seasons and few traumatic events.  So when baby Bennett was born, I was knocked down hard.  And didn't come up for a breath for 9 weeks and 2 days.

Since September 1 (the day Bennett decided life was going to be okay and the first day I felt like myself again), I've had lots of time to process those early weeks.  And I've come to many conclusions.  I think every woman has at least one part of childbearing that's challenging.  Getting pregnant was easy for me.  Being pregnant was so dreamy (until the last 4 weeks...but no one can honestly say the last 4 weeks are lovely).  Childbirth was even (don't shoot me) easy - I got me some drugz after 7 hours of pain that made me want to bite my fingers off and Bster entered the world 90 minutes later.  My body recovered nicely after he was born and I was feeling great after about a week.

But then. My emotions went berserk.  Nursing was legitimately the hardest thing I have ever done.  Harder than being the new kid in a class.  Harder than my first year of teaching.  Harder than any marital challenge.  It wasn't painful for me.  It was just hard.  I don't even have the words to describe how challenging it was for me.

People said we would get into a rhythm.  That eventually we would get the hang of it.  So I pressed on.

It's about to get real here.

My whole life I've struggled with not really feeling like I have any real strengths (that's another story for another day).  So I think I was desperate to be able to say, "I nursed my baby.  And I was good at it."  Oh sweet Heidi, I just want to stroke your hair as it falls out after giving life to a human and tell you that IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD IF NURSING DOESN'T WORK.  IT'S JUST NOT.  FORMULA EXISTS FOR A REASON.  USE IT.  IT'S NOT WORTH THE TEARS - FROM BENNETT OR FROM YOU!

In the first few weeks of Bennett's life, I cried all the time.  On my first day home alone with him, I remember sitting on the floor in front of his swing weeping while he slept peacefully.  Because I couldn't believe that I had this perfect little boy to care for.  And because I was terrified that something might happen to him someday and that I wouldn't be able to protect him for forever.  My heart was so heavy with love for this tiny human.  And it was overflowing in a way that I had never felt.

I chalked up my intense emotions to the ridiculous hormonal changes a woman goes through after childbirth.  I told myself it was going to be okay.  That I just needed to make it to 6 weeks and everything should go back to normal.  That I didn't need medication to help me feel like myself again.

When Bennett was 5 weeks old, our family of 3 went to a birthday party and I spent almost the whole time upstairs sobbing and unsuccessfully attempting to nurse my wailing infant.  Daniel had just returned from a week-long business trip and while I had held in my emotions while he was away, the floodgates were bursting and I couldn't make them stop.  I remember texting my bestie in Africa from the floor of that room saying that I was crying and I couldn't stop.  I thought things couldn't get any darker, but they were about to.
Seven weeks after Bennett was born, I asked one of my lifesavers to come over and snuggle B so I could pack for a family vacation to Colorado.  I was packing upstairs and just started crying.  And again, I couldn't stop.  By this point, I was accustomed to daily tears.  And I had tried everything - eating right, exercising, sleeping when baby slept (note to self: don't ever tell a new momma to sleep when baby sleeps...some babies don't sleep), reaching out to my incredible support system, praying every minute of every day.  And nothing was working.

I remember walking downstairs to my sweet sister and, through tears, saying, "I think something's wrong with me."  She ever so gently encouraged me to call my doctor.  So I did.  And left a message on the answering machine.  I was bawling as I left my message (which actually turned out to be great - the nurse called me back minutes later).   At my appointment the next day, I recounted the last few weeks and without even missing a beat, the doctor suggested that I might need some medication.  And I immediately took her up on her offer.

Prior to this moment, had anyone suggested taking medication for my emotions, I would have responded with any of the following:
I don't take medicine.
I don't need it.
I can handle this.
It will be okay.

Oh sweet new momma Heidi, there is so much you don't know.

About 10 days after beginning my meds, I was still a hot mess.  We had just returned from Colorado and Bennett hadn't gained any weight in a week.  Our pediatrician wanted to refer him to Children's Mercy in Kansas City to do some tests in an attempt to figure out what the problem was.  I sobbed uncontrollably after hanging up the phone with the nurse.  I remember taking Bennett upstairs and rocking him while I did the ugly cry and held him so close completely afraid that he would be taken from me.

Another one of my lifesavers came to visit two days later.  And I cried all day.  She watched as I tried, again unsuccessfully, to nurse my extremely fussy baby.  She loved on me.  She brought me food and encouraged me with all she had.  And I finally said out loud what I had been thinking for weeks:  I feel like I have lost my joy.  I'm not myself right now.  I'm at the end of my rope and at the bottom of a pit and like there is no way out.  Life is incredibly dark right now and I don't know what to do except cry.

The next day was a good day.  Bennett ate well and I thought we had turned a corner.

Then Sunday hit.  And Bennett, again, cried all day.  I skyped with my African bestie and sobbed while I told her I didn't know what to do.  That this is not what I had envisioned.  That the two things I was most afraid of pre-baby were post-partum depression and a fussy baby.  And I had both.

 From the rocker in the nursery, I texted a dozen of my praying friends and pleaded for them to intercede on my behalf.   My faithful brother called me immediately and gave me every encouraging word he had.  My in-town sister dropped what she was doing and came over to hold my sweet, fussy baby.  And daddyDan, again, made me laugh.  It was at this point that Daniel and I decided to change how Bennett ate.  We decided to try the bottle instead of nursing.  I knowwwwwwwwwww.  Why didn't we do that before?!  Because I'm stubborn.  Because I wanted to succeed at something.  Because I wanted to be what my baby needed.  And because I was so tired and so emotional and so unable to make rational decisions.

The next day, September 1, was the best day of 2014.  It was the day I decided that Bennett's well-being was more important than my stubbornness.  It was the day I finally realized that at Bennett's one-year birthday party, I'd rather be able to say, "My baby eats formula and is happy" than "I nursed him for a whole year and it was AWFUL."  I physically became a mom on June 27, but I think September 1 is the day I emotionally became a mom.  Bennett's needs trumped my stubbornness.

Bennett was a hard baby. For me.  I'm sure other moms would look at the first 9 weeks of his life and say that he wasn't anything compared to their challenging babes.  And that's okay.  Having a baby knocked me off my feet in the most intense way.  It made me rely on people more than I ever had before.  And I am so thankful for that.

Ladies who are pregnant, don't read this and be afraid.  Know that it will be hard.  (For some gals it isn't though!)  Don't hesitate to ask for help - whether that help is from your friends, family, or doctor.  As one of my colleagues told me, sometimes the only mantra worth repeating is: survive and advance.  And remember, it's going to be okay.

First-time mommas who are in the trenches of life with a newborn, know that you are so precious.  Ask people to bring you food (I asked my mom to make me a handful of freezer meals and she showed up a week later with 15 meals.  The best gift ever.).  Invest in a nice stroller if you don't have one.  The mall is a great place to walk when it's cold.

I feel like I should end this post with a shout-out to my ridiculous support system, but the list of people who loved on me is far too long.  Just know this, my gracious lifesavers, you mean more to me than could ever know.  Your prayers and words of encouragement got me through the darkest time of my life.  You rode the waves with me and for that I am eternally grateful.

I'm back to being myself, but an even better version, I think.  I love my life and I adore my little family.  Bennett brings Daniel and I joy every single day and I couldn't imagine life without him.  I'm still tired, and I hear that won't change any time soon, but I'm okay with that.  I'm still very type-A and still quite stubborn, but I'm slowly learning how to chill out.  And I love it.  God is unbelievably faithful in all things.  Jesus is my rock and I will forever cling to Him.

I'm an open-book, friends.  Don't hesitate to ask questions if you have them.  Ladies, if you are feeling any emotions related to post-partum, please reach out to me or to someone you trust.  I've totally got your back, girl.