Postpartum life is a fickle thing my friends. At first you have the potential baby blues, unexplained crying, hormonal shifts, night sweats, etc., all while your heart expands tenfold and you get to know the sweet nugget that came into your life. I’m nursing round the clock, sleeping when I can catch it and trying to not fail my other two babies in the process, not to mention my husband and the dog. There is so much love I could burst with joy. But there’s also so much mess, noise, chaos. So much milk sprayed in the face of my infant and all over my clothes while I fumble around in the dark for another late night feeding. So many angry, impatient outbursts at my toddlers for not listening again to whatever thing I’ve asked them to do…or not do. So many piles and piles of laundry and dishes, floors that need to be vacuumed, meals that need to be made, you know the drill.
For the first few weeks, though, I truly felt like I was on cloud 9. I was no longer pregnant and I was snuggling my absolutely perfect third baby boy. Every day my big kids would go off to daycare while my husband went off to work and Grayson and I would snuggle and nurse while binge watching shows on Netflix. I’d have friends come for coffee or lunch visits, family members stop by for baby snuggles, meals delivered by sweet friends to feed my entire family. Someone would pick up my big kids from daycare and take them to the park or their home to entertain them until bringing them back home where I was waiting with open arms {or at least one arm depending on the day and whether or not I had decided to let Grayson nap in his bassinet}. People would ask how I was doing and I would genuinely answer “Great!”.
Weeks passed and the weather went through fits and starts of nice weather and crappy. On days we couldn’t get out of the house, I’d remind myself that these days are fleeting and soak up the opportunity to hunker down. On days we could get out, we’d grab coffee or go on lunch dates, running errands with an ease akin to how I used to feel solo… one kid in the grocery store is far easier than three! We got into a good groove, I started cooking more meals and picking up the kids from daycare more days than not and seemingly without warning we exited the sweet coddled phase of life after birth and were plunged back into life. Life with 3 kids, and a dog with the most basic of needs, a house to take care of and bills to pay. For this life I prayed.
I went to my 6 week postpartum checkup very honestly and told my doctor I was doing okay but definitely struggling with irritability and frustration. I was managing but life isn’t about just getting by and we made a plan to work towards getting things back on track. The never ending challenge with anxiety is that it can come in fits and starts year to year or month to month or week to week and while I can certainly feel it shifting and changing, I know my family can too.
Sometimes I think they can see the walls I put up brick by brick in front of them. Sometimes, it must be hard to love me. They know I’m in here, the smile, the glow, the love, but where does it go and how do they break through the walls? Should they? Or should they wait patiently asking “How are you?” and getting a perfunctory “good”. How is anybody? Do you mean right now? This moment? I’m probably annoyed. Because when you say how are you? I think of all the reasons I’m not okay. And all the reasons I don’t want it to be any of your business. All the reasons I’m strong enough to handle it. All the reasons I don’t need you to ask. But I do. I need you. I need you to ask. I need you to be there. There is a still a piece of me that knows that but I will push you. I will push you because I know you’ll stay and pride makes people do silly things.
I had so many people tell me how crazy my life would be with three boys so young, how I would be busy and have my hands full and every time I heard a version of “good luck”, I heard it as a criticism. I felt like I had to prove to everyone that I could handle this because I had already heard the doubt in so many voices. So I needed to have it all together and make it look easy so as not to admit defeat. Somewhere along the line though, I started to take my own advice and hear what they were saying to me in a different tone. Maybe they didn’t mean it in the negative way I was hearing it. Maybe some of them simply meant “get ready for the ride of your life. It’s messy and beautiful and you’ll never be the same…you’ll be so much better. You’ve got this, mama”
I’ve seen a meme floating around that says something like “check in on your strong friends too” and it’s spot on. I am so lucky to have people that check in on me, that stay by my side when I respond to genuine questions of concern with short, blunt answers. They give me permission to be “okay” or not okay and the respect to come to them when I’m ready. There were moments in those first few weeks where I really felt like we had it down and we were nailing life with three kids, and maybe we were. But nothing is perfect. When things get hard, my initial reaction is always to bristle up and put my armor on, to handle it, to figure it out, to make it work. But I’m learning more and more that it’s so important to lean on others. It’s so important to ask for and accept help when you need it. Take the wall down, and let them in.
I know that posts like these, when I lay it all out there, are the ones that are read most often which tells me that someone out there might find comfort or peace in these words. Maybe they feel the same way or know someone who does. I hope for that when I write, but honestly, I write because it’s therapeutic and it helps to remind myself that I AM okay. When I’m great, I’m really great. But some days are a lot harder, and that’s important to talk about too. It’s not all smiles and cuddles and afternoon naps, but there are still beautiful moments in the hard days. There are belly laughs and pre-bedtime snuggles when I silently beg for forgiveness for losing my temper. There are first moments and milestones, and lots of delicious coffee. There are walks in the sunshine and lazy Sunday mornings. For this life I prayed.
This life, my friends, is beautiful. It’s crazy and overwhelming. It’s deafening and blissful. It’s messy and just plain wild, and I love it. I have 4 wonderful weeks left of maternity leave and you better believe I’m going to soak it in, through the high moments when I’m clearly Mom of the Year and the low points where I’m counting down the minutes until I can pour a cocktail. So cheers to the good days and an early bedtime on the bad ones. 🙂
-T-
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