My heart weighed heavy today after talking to a co-worker. She is back from maternity leave and her little boy is five months old. She is a different person since having a child, but in a good way. It has brought out the maternal, unselfish side of her. I personally still struggle with those selfish tendencies. Anyways, I was asking her how the baby was and she was just very short "good" she said. I could tell there was something else going on but didn't want to press the issue. Later in the day someone else asked her and she started to open up a little bit.
She started talking about how he doesn't sleep through the night and he has reflux, he's still sleeping in his moses basket in his crib, etc. I could just see the frustration in her eyes as they started to tear up. I just wanted to wrap her in a big bear hug and tell her I understand. I remember that feeling. Feeling like you are all alone and you are trying your best and nothing seems to change. We sat down and talked about a few things she could try, several of us reassured her that it will get better and some days it will be easier than others. As she left to go take care of another patient I began to wonder. Why do we let it get this bad? Why are we not more forthcoming about all the trails mommas go through in the first year of their babies life? I know I felt like I was the only one who had a baby that didn't sleep through the night until he was nine months old.
We as a community do a very poor job of helping new mothers cope with the first year of their babies life. It still seems that post partum depression and baby blues are things we are not supposed to acknowledge or talk about. Maybe it's a southern thing, I am not sure. I just know that after my battle with it I am willing to help any mom who needs it. Whether that be an encouraging word, a shoulder to cry on or just time to vent.
I didn't realize anything was wrong until Isaiah was about 6 months old. I expected to be tired the first 12 weeks of his life. I expected him to need me during the night, but surely to God he would be sleeping through the night by 6 months. My pediatrician was no comfort he told me with each check up that "Oh, my kids didn't sleep through the night till they were 9 months old". That's not really what a tired, frustrated momma wants to hear. Nevertheless what was I supposed to do. I just kept searching the internet for help and trudging through each day hating staying home more and more. Nap times became very hard for me. I would fight with Isaiah to get him to sleep. Hold him tight, keep the paci in his mouth and rock him till he finally gave in, then I would pray so hard that he wouldn't wake up when I put him in the crib. After I would lay him down it was like all the energy was zapped from my body. I would just lay in my bed. Sometimes I would sleep but many times I would just lay there exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally. I remember feeling so alone. Trapped in this house with a baby. Now don't get me wrong I adore Isaiah. I love being his momma and I am thankful for him and what a blessing he is. I just couldn't see that at the time. So after a visit from a friend and she witnessed how hard Isaiah was to put down for naps and bedtime she really started to worry about me. I was a mess, but I couldn't see it.
Probably a couple weeks after her visit, things started to crumble. I had become this angry, mean, short tempered, hateful person. I was horrible to my husband because deep down I was jealous that he got to leave the house everyday. I hated him for being free to do that. I hated that I was bound to this task of being a mom. He had tried to reach out to me but just didn't know what to do. He didn't understand what I was going through. Our relationship was not good. There were days I wanted to just leave. I didn't want this responsibility anymore and I really thought they would be better off without me. I never told Brian this when it was going on because I knew it would make him angry. Everything finally came to a head one day. It was probably a typical day. Isaiah probably woke up before the crack of dawn like he always does, we had breakfast, we played, etc. So it was time for his nap and I was ready to have my time away from him. I remember being in his room trying to rock him and he would just fight me so bad. He would twist and turn in my arms no matter what position I would hold him in. Granted he's like 8 months old at this point and not a small baby. After struggling for a while I remember looking at him and yelling "WHY WON'T YOU SLEEP! I JUST NEED YOU TO SLEEP!", and his response was heartbreaking to me. I remember the look on his face as I yelled at my little boy. He was scared of me. He was crying, I was crying, it was not a good situation. At that point I knew I had to put him in his crib and walk away. I did just that. I sat him in his crib and ran to my room crying. I threw things, I slammed doors, I punched pillows. I was so angry at God, at my situation, and at myself. I was so alone and felt no way out.
I called Brian at work crying and told him I didn't want to live like this anymore. Not suicidal but close to having a psychotic break. He didn't know what to say. What could he say that would help? I didn't know what I needed but I know I needed help. After talking to my friend Tracy she convinced me to call my doctor. Realizing that I needed some help they got me an appointment that week. My OB's face seemed so sad for me. Almost like she pitied me. She said that I probably just waited too long before talking to someone and reassured me things would get better. She prescribed me Zoloft and made me an appointment to talk with a therapist. I'm not sure if it was the fact that I wasn't hiding how I felt anymore or the medicine but after a week I felt better. I didn't let the little things get to me as bad. I did speak with a therapist a couple times but just didn't feel like it helped me any. I wasn't going to get some epiphany about why I had post partum depression so I didn't continue to see her.
I only stayed on the meds about a month. Being a know it all nurse I weaned myself off (I do not recommend this). You should discuss this with your dr first of course. I just "felt" more normal, hindsight I was not. As I said I was able to cope with things better, I was more open about my feelings, and I tried to get out and do more. Deep down I was still not myself. I still had days that I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to be a mom or have to deal with having a child. I just felt like I had lost who I was, like I didn't have a place.
You know when you have a career and a job you love its easy to identify yourself as Charity "cardiac nurse". You can have conversations about your day with your spouse, that don't include a list of things you did around the house. I had something that I could relate too and relate with people about and with becoming a mom (although tons of people around me had kids) I couldn't find anyone I could relate too. No one had the same "issues" I did, or at least they weren't willing to talk about them. I think that part of the problem was I had a career and was independent and I wasn't prepared for the selflessness of becoming a mom. There's no more just picking up and going anytime you want, especially if you have a kid that is dependent on a sleep schedule. Whether that schedule was because of me or not I don't know. It is something I still struggle with. Everyone told me to join a mommy group it will be good for you and Isaiah, but I just couldn't make myself do it. I would find some excuse, either it would be during nap time or I didn't know any of the mother's that would be there. I just didn't want to participate in any activity that would cause more anxiety. Honestly, most days I just wanted to go back to work full time and have someonen else watch Isaiah. I wanted to be that mom who looked forward to seeing her kid when she got home, who was excited to do fun, new things and actually enjoyed her time at home.
Around 13-15 months things got better, Isaiah started taking just one nap a day for 2 hours. He became very consistent in his napping, although he still wakes up between 5-6 everyday I can count on that 2 hour nap. This has allowed me to feel like I can do more. We go to the park, grocery store, Target, etc. I don't freak out as bad if he misses a nap, doesn't go to bed right at normal bed time, or gets a little "off". I'm not sure what happened that helped me get there but Lord am I glad. I still have bad days/weeks that make me want to run, but they are less and less as we go on. I can't wrap my mind around having another kid and I hope someday that will change. I love my son dearly, he is funny, and smart and a handsome little rascal. This has been a hard journey and I know that we are not done. I am being molding for something bigger and although I can't see the big picture right now I know God has a plan.
Thanks for reading, I know it might have been scattered.
