I've been thinking about this and the need to remember how all this feels. I hope to use these memories to better relate and come up with good ways to help mamas when I'm past this and working (hopefully) as a lactation consultant.
I'm sort of overwhelmed and while I can focus intensely to bake and decorate a double decker Valentine cake, I can't seem find a clean bra pad, remember to shut off the basement light, or figure out how to get Weston signed up for his "talented youth" workshop on time (that he desperately needs by the way, because every day of 2nd grade is torture for us both!! SohelpmeGod ).
I'm sleep-deprived and dieting, hormonal, and learning to live in this newly expanded family. I keep putting everyone else's needs before my own and then inevitably explode and collapse,...... over and over again. My house is a disaster, my car is worse, and my mind... no one should see what's inside there. It's cluttered the most.
Oh, and by the way, I have a strange sore on the bottom of my toe that is painful and itchy and I need to do something about it! But it's so weird because once I put my shoe on for the day, I keep forgetting about it. It hurts and you'd think pain is something you would not forget, but there are so many uncomfortable things... from my healing incision, to the pinchy strap marks from constantly having to wear a bra 24 hours a day to keep from leaking milk everywhere to the tingly milk let down feeling (too much information? Sorry.) Anyway.... and there's always something that needs to be done, so basically nothing gets done, if that makes any sense.
Ash is about three and half months old now, it's Valentine's Day. I think I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but we're not there yet. My life at this point is still not "normal."So when I run into you at Target, or in the school parking lot and I stare off into space or talk to myself , smile, say nothing and look more than a little disheveled. I hope you understand....
I'm "sleeping" on a cold mattress on the floor of her room tucked tight between the wall and her crib. A tight fitted sheet with a tiny pillow (which I treat like a dangerous weapon), and a thin old purple quilt my mother made me when I was 11 create my nest.
This is how I am surviving right now. Spending hours a night in this space, a place for just me and my sleepless Ashleigh. I miss my bed, I miss my husband. I miss so many things about the "before" but this "after" is better than I ever could have imagined and I don't want to go back. I make brief appearances in my usual bed, but it seems too often that as soon as I snuggle under the warm down comforter with my big pillow next to Nate... she yelps, and off I go again...
This is how I am surviving right now. Spending hours a night in this space, a place for just me and my sleepless Ashleigh. I miss my bed, I miss my husband. I miss so many things about the "before" but this "after" is better than I ever could have imagined and I don't want to go back. I make brief appearances in my usual bed, but it seems too often that as soon as I snuggle under the warm down comforter with my big pillow next to Nate... she yelps, and off I go again...
One gets a lot of advise when you have a baby that does not sleep long solid stretches at night. I've started not to mention it so much since everyone has a "solution" that just isn't me. I seem to also get a lot of advise about nursing (which is interesting since I've studied this MUCH more than the average person). I nurse her frequently, (okay lets be honest, pretty much ALL THE TIME) even when in public. So between the sleeping and the nursing advice, I’ve been a bit bombarded. A lot of this “advice” feels judgmental. Some of it, well-meaning, still isn’t helpful and just plain hurts. Normally I think I'd be strong, but this post partum softness brings quiet in me.
Lately I've been noticing things about our culture that seemed minimal to me when not in this soft state. Moms need easy and accepting when they are post-partum. What a huge difference a "nursing" room in a department store makes, and what a statement of, "You're welcome here". A sign on a coffee shop bulletin board "We support nursing mothers", allows me to breath a sigh of relief when she starts to fuss and I need to unfasten my bra at the table. I will come here again, tell my friends, and remember their hospitality even long after my milk has dried up. I think to myself. More places should be like this. It's so simple and so profound. I will advocate for this when I get the strength.
No sign of support feels like nonsupport. It does not feel neutral. People I think are afraid to say and show positive messages about breastfeeding because they are worried about offending formula-feeding mothers, but when research shows how overwhelmingly better breast milk is
for our babies we need to do what we can to make what feels "weird" (due to our over sexualization of breasts in this culture), to make it okay.
for our babies we need to do what we can to make what feels "weird" (due to our over sexualization of breasts in this culture), to make it okay.
I don't think there are many bottle feeding mothers who twice about feeding their baby where ever they are. They don't need the support. They're doing their thing and they're okay. We do! We need the support! And who would not want to support us?? We're making America smarter. We're helping the environment. The CDC estimates that $13 billion a year could be saved a year in the US is we met our breastfeeding goals... you hear all this talk about reducing national debt. If you own a business put up a sign. Please.
Anyway, enough about that. I'll rant about that later....
Ash and I, we’re getting on okay. Sometimes it's hard, but this it what feels "right" to me right now. This is how I cope. I know this is not forever. This is what I need to do right now. I just sort of wish we lived in a society that valued this time and didn't expect anything else from mothers, except of course the mothering.
I understand her. She does not understand how the rest of the world works. She's three months old. She wants me close. It’s warm and sweet and safe. The best place in the world as she’s known it in her 112 days of life so far. She's not trying to be a pain. She does not realize that because I'm paranoid I have to "sleep" in this crazy set up. And really don't get any sleep and that all that would be fine if the rest of the world stopped, but it doesn't. She does not know that she's keeping me away from Nate.
I understand her. She does not understand how the rest of the world works. She's three months old. She wants me close. It’s warm and sweet and safe. The best place in the world as she’s known it in her 112 days of life so far. She's not trying to be a pain. She does not realize that because I'm paranoid I have to "sleep" in this crazy set up. And really don't get any sleep and that all that would be fine if the rest of the world stopped, but it doesn't. She does not know that she's keeping me away from Nate.
I know from experience that this time is short, and when I look back these 4-5 months will be a blink and I'll be glad that I met her needs, bonded with her, and did what I could to teach her that the world is a safe and loving place and that she's not alone.
I'm writing this because writing it makes it real in my head. I will be honest, there are times that I do not LOVE the act of breastfeeding itself. And certainly times I really wish I could just put her in her crib shut the door and go into my own room to sleep for the night. There are times when I don’t want to be touched anymore. When I’ve carried her hot body against mine for hours on end and I just want some time away. It's okay to have these thoughts. I want to remember to tell my patients when the time comes that this is normal.
But it’s a commitment I’ve made. A commitment to her, to her nutrition and health, and to her development that I recommit to each day. Just like a marriage or a close friendship it’s not all roses and sunshine but it’s a gift I want to give her and I know when I look back I’ll be glad for each additional day that I breastfed her, parented her, and was open to her to give her all she needed in these early days.
