Then and Now

I stayed home with Boo today because his stomach still wasn't quite right.  This is his third day home.  I think he will be ready for school on Monday, but we'll keep an eye on him over the weekend.  I didn't mind staying home because it's fun to play on the floor.  We went for three walks in the neighborhood.  We also went to my doctor's appointment and also to return the hospital breast pump rental.

Believe it or not, the hospital pump weighs 14 pounds.  I wasn't able to pick it up when I rented it four days after delivery.  Then, once I was able to, 14 pounds felt so heavy.  Today, it wasn't a problem.  I popped 20.5 lb Boo into the stroller and balanced the 14 lb box on top of the stroller's cup holder tray and wheeled it back into the hospital's Lactation Boutique.  This is my hospital for all things pre and postnatal.

When I drove past the Birthing Inn, I wondered about the cars.  Were they visitors?  Did they belong to families with mothers in labor?  First baby?  Second?  Third?  Those three days I had in the hospital were special for so many reasons.  Having help 24/7 made a huge difference.  Things fell apart as soon as we got home.

It was odd going through the hospital entrance.  Straight ahead and to the right is the Antenatal Testing Center where they do sonograms.  I enjoyed getting the sonograms until the bed rest scare and I remembered that day in a two second flashback.  The weekly sonograms were amazing.  We got to see Boo a lot, but I was terrified that the measurements would come in low and I would be hospitalized.  I remembered all the visits to the high risk OB whose office is upstairs.  I planned the sonograms and OB visits on the same day so we didn't have to make two trips.  It was the only time I was allowed out of the house.

I turned left and walked straight and around the bend to the boutique.  I set the pump on the inspection station.  The lactation consultant looked up my information and remarked that the return was early.  "Yes, I reached my goal of six months."  Then added, "I had low supply issues; he was lip and tongue tied and it was very hard for us."  I spent over 500 hours pumping.  That number doesn't mean anything to anyone but me.  Why did I feel the need to explain the fact that I had pumped for only six months?

Because I had hoped to breastfeed for a year.  Because I had hoped for an idealized breastfeeding relationship with my baby.

She remarked on how cute Boo is and said I did a good job while pointing to his chunky thighs.  I left and felt a combination of relief and sadness.  This chapter is over.   I worked so hard.  I wish it wasn't as hard as it was.  I walked back down the corridor and remembered how long it felt when I was on bed rest.  I had to hold onto the handrail while taking half steps and would be winded by the time I got to the OB's office.  Grant usually dropped me off because you have to park far away from the entrance.  By the time he parked and walked back in, he'd catch up with me because I was only halfway down the corridor.  Muscle atrophy and weight gain from pregnancy are not a good combination.  Now, I was breezing by pushing my healthy baby in his stroller.

I didn't make it out of the front entrance without tears rolling down my cheeks.  It was just too much.  The flood of memories for those difficult times was unexpected.  By now, shouldn't I simply be happy that I have a wonderful, healthy baby?  I know it. I just don't feel it, and I think that this logical-emotional disconnect happens more often than I'll admit to.  It applies to all areas of my life and was there long before Boo was even a thought in my mind.

There is a question on the Edinburgh Scale which is a postpartum depression screening.  The last question asks if you've ever had thoughts about harming yourself (within the last 7 days).  It is an alarming question compared to the other nine.  It befuddles me that anyone would expect a new mom to answer that truthfully.  The first thought is this: I'm unfit to be a mother, they are going to take my baby away.

I felt many times that they would be better off without me because I wasn't ENOUGH of a mother. How could I be with all these conflicting feelings?  I wished I could just disappear from this Earth forever, but I wasn't thinking of the logistics on how to do that.

I will never forget the first suicidal thought I ever had. I was 15 years old and very depressed.  I knew it, but I didn't want to "talk to someone", as my mother put it.  Seemed like all the yuppie kids had their weekly appointments to keep with their shrinks, as if it was the hip, cool thing to do. Look at me!  I have problems!  I was leaning on a pillar on the subway platform and had a vision of simply stepping off it.  So easy.  It kept happening  and was eerie and unwanted.  The pillars are close to the edge, so I moved away from it and sat on a bench in the center of the platform.  What the hell was that all about?  This is the kind of stuff you don't share.  I wasn't going to do it (obviously ), yet at the same time, I wondered if I could trust my body.  I had the thought.  From there, is it possible to shift into autopilot?  A lot of time has passed so, empirically, yes.

I am not going anywhere.

I got it together in time for my appointment with my midwife which was immediately after in an office park across the street.

It was for an annual visit.  That threw me because I feel as if I've seen women's health doctors a hundred times in the last year.  The exam and blood work went quickly, but the midwife spent time with me to see how things were going.  I told her about my PPD.  She asked a lot of questions and was supportive.  She said I was doing everything I'm supposed to be doing to treat it.  A lot of it is self care along with therapy and a good support network.  I wish my family was closer.  I wish I saw them more often.

What's most difficult is that PPD is a scratch on the surface like glass that has been scored.  The structure has been weakened and it affects all aspects of life: work, relationships, self esteem.  It is a lot of effort to pull it together so any stressor is pressure on the weakened glass.  It's possible to break at any moment, and it does happen still.  Some days are harder than others.

Motherhood is double-edged in that immediate family grows and the house gets crowded, but it is so incredibly isolating for a new mother.  I told my midwife that I am having good days but still have bad days and I'm not in the clear just yet.  She assured me it would pass.  I think it is going to take a year.