Day 83

     Today is the day I have realized that I must accept things for what they are right now. Or maybe it's the day I admitted defeat. I guess it all depends on perspective.

Enjoying a shared meal with my daughter

     Over the past few weeks I've been fairly quiet on the blog and in life. Postpartum depression & anxiety have continued to be a part of my life, but I am managing them. Unfortunately, they are ever-present and something I need to tackle each day. I keep pushing through, though it takes a tremendous amount of energy to believe in myself- sometimes more energy than I have on a particular day. Still, I congratulate myself on all the little things, no matter how mundane they may be. 

     

     That being said, it's been hard to congratulate myself on finally being able to say I'm exclusively breastfeeding my child. To think that during the previous two infant stages I faced such personal guilt over the need to use a bottle or formula. I would be thrilled if I could at this point. The decision to be the sole provider of nutrition for my daughter was not a choice for me to make- that decision was made for us. 

     

     I used to be so envious of women who touted that they never needed formula or never gave their child a bottle. I want to hug every single one of those women now. I want to take them out for a night away from their nursling and get them drunk. I want them to eat any type of food that they crave and not have to worry about whether their child might react to hidden soy or butter. I want them to feel the freedom of independence from holding and comforting a miserable infant. Because now I realize how much of a sacrifice this can truly be, and how difficult it is when it wasn't your choice to make.

 

     My daughter is allergic to something in my milk. I've removed all dairy and soy from my diet, yet she is still not tolerating the milk well. But at least she will nurse. If we give her a bottle of formula, she will projectile vomit. And they specialty formula she needs is THE WORST smelling thing ever on it's own, let alone partially digested. Give her a bottle of expressed milk and she will push it away. She wants the real thing. She wants the comfort of mom. Because if the milk will make her uncomfortable, at least mom will hold her tight, skin-to-skin, and soothe her aching belly. It's inspiring that my presence truly means that much to her, that I am more than just a food source. However, it's also taken exhaustion to a new level. 

     Tonight as my husband and sons sat at the dinner table chatting about the weekend and enjoying their burgers, I sat in the other room nursing my daughter after failed attempts to use a medicine dropper to feed her additional formula. Eventually after the boys went upstairs for bath and bed, I got up and used my one free hand to put together my plate. I returned to my chair (I'm pretty much always in this chair now) and fed the two of us. In some ways I felt alone, in other ways I could sense how much of a force I am in this world for my family. 

     I reminded myself that the days are long, but the years are short and just as it did for my two sons, this will all be a cloudy memory in the not too distant future. But the thing is, I don't want this to be a cloudy memory. I want to clearly remember looking into her beautiful eyes (as I dropped particles of food on her when I attempted to shove the burger in my mouth). I want to remember her long thin fingers grasping onto my shirt and skin. I want to remember the cries and wiggles that indicated a huge burp was about to take place and the smile she gave me after it was released. I want to remember her sighs as she drifted off into a satisfied sleep. 

    I want to remember how simple this time is, because I know there will be a day when she won't look me in the eye or hold my hand. There will be a time when her troubles will be far worse than gas and GI pains, and I won't be able to stop them from happening with an elimination diet. 

    

     So for now, this is where we are.

Day 82

We mothers are struggling.

Flowers I bought myself because I deserve them.

     I'm overwhelmed by and grateful for the messages of support and encouragement I received after my last post. So many of you shared similar experiences and it absolutely breaks my heart that so many of us struggle in silence because we think this is just the way motherhood is supposed to be.
     And it's not one particular demographic. Younger moms, older moms, stay-at-home moms, work-outside-the-home moms, single moms, married moms, wealthy moms, middle class moms, paycheck-to-paycheck moms. I could go on, but I think you get the picture. So many of us are in constant fear that we are somehow failing at motherhood and nothing could be further from the truth.
     We basically are thrown into one of the most important roles in the history of the world with little or no training. There are thousands of "experts" who have written books or run websites about motherhood, but the truth is that no one is an expert at each mother/child relationship. We all have very different personalities, as do our children. Each family situation is unique, which means all the well meaning advice in the world might not necessarily apply. We do the best we can with the circumstances and resources we are presented with. Why is it so hard to give ourselves credit for what we accomplish as parents?

     As I navigate my experience, I am so thankful to have a community of supportive women around me. Some of them I've known my entire life, others I've only just met this month. Some I see practically every day and others I've only communicated with online. However they came into my life, each one of them offers me a perspective on motherhood/womanhood that I incorporate into my life to be the best I can. Some days I'm an attentive and energized mother and other days I struggle to get out of bed. Even on my worst day, I'm still trying and I know you all are too.

     Thank you to all the wonderful women (and men) who are sharing this journey with me. Your presence means the world.

Day 81

     After the last post almost two week ago, things got really bad really fast. Depression for me can sometimes feel like draining a bathtub. Energy and emotions leave my body and I try not to get sucked down into the darkness.

 I felt nothing. I struggled to talk to my own children. I could barely make eye contact with my husband. I knew I needed to see my doctor.

I haven't washed my face or brushed my teeth & hair, but I'm going to be OK. 

     I got into the car last Monday morning with my daughter dressed and in a clean diaper. She was strapped into her carseat, which was safely in place. I had clothes on. We both had eaten breakfast. My car had gas and I was stable enough to drive. On difficult days, these are successes that I need to celebrate.

     I got to my doctor's office and I had a very strong feeling of nostalgia. What an awful thing to feel nostalgic about- longing for the days when I was struggling with only one child. Now I have three to wrangle and hopefully not scar for life. I don't want them to remember their mother crying on the kitchen floor, unable to articulate what made her so sad.

     I talked through the things I was feeling and we made a game plan for changes to make to my routine so I could find time to care for myself. I think that's one of the biggest changes in me since becoming a mother. I no longer give myself permission to be cared for. I focus on the needs of others and it leaves me drained just like that bathtub. I need to find ways to fill myself again with purpose and energy. 

     I'm working on scheduling time for writing, showers, exercise, coffee with friends and other activities that make me feel alive. I will not lose myself this time.