OK, it's time to rally 'round a post-partum Mom, and I need you guys to help me. Hit me with your best post-partum, totally overwhelmed stories. The ones you can laugh about now, not the one that may have made you cry this morning. This is for a wonderful friend and mother who is currently having a post-partum ack-attack.
You know the feeling. You've spent the last two and a half months of your pregnancy thinking that as soon as you can eat more than a tablespoon of food without getting heartburn, as soon as your ankles no longer have the same girth as your thighs, as soon as you can roll over without needing the assistance of three acrobats and a crane, as soon as you can go two hours without needing to pee... as soon as you have. this. baby... life will get back to normal. It's an obsession like few others, and a pregnant woman begins to look toward That Day with the glow and expectancy normally reserved for... well, let's be honest, normally reserved for lunatics who await the return of the MotherShip. It's not rational, but in the third trimester, that doesn't matter.
Then the baby comes.
And the learning curve can seem just as steep as it did the first time.
And the baby seems to sleep only when you aren't needed by the other children, or by your partner, or by a jury selection team.
And you can't figure out why you feel so grimy, until you do the math and realize you haven't showered since Tuesday. Or shaved since that first glorious day you could reach your legs again.
And suddenly, it feels like your 24 hours in each day only have maybe 45 minutes in each one. Yet your to-do list has somehow quadrupled.
And that glorious return of the MotherShip seems to have only brought you more demands and less ability to fulfill them. And of course, there's no chocolate, or beer, or help.
Yeah. It's normal. But in the midst of it, you look around and feel like every other mother on the face of the planet has it totally together, didn't blink twice after having her umpteenth child, and would probably snort derisively, flick you in the back of the head and tell you to get it together if only she could see the paralysis taking over your brain.
Would you share your stories to help a Mom-in-Need today? C'mon, let's make her smile. Let's remind her (and maybe someone else who might read this and recognize herself in our stories) that she's not alone, it's not going to last forever, and it's all gonna be OK!
You can post your stories on your blog and put a link in the comments. Or, you can post your stories under the comments, here. It's all good. Just please share your stories with her.
I'll add mine tomorrow. Sometimes, it's difficult to articulate, and we do tend to be hard on ourselves when we can't just snap back into shape like Elasti-Girl and start living like Martha Stewart three weeks after giving birth. (Even if we didn't live like Martha, or have any elastic left *before* we got pregnant!) I've written about it a couple of times here, and here, and here, but in the spirit of full disclosure I'll add more.
Your turn!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
19 comments:
Oh dear! That lovely post partum time...I'm not a blogger but I feel a certain call to leave a note and encourage! I had my 3rd dd in the heat of July in PA. CAme home to a house that dh had not bothered to pick -up take ou the stinky overflowing trash or do dishes (just lying in the sink)or pick up the mess the dog left before coming to pick me up at the hospital (he thought I could "take care of it" when I got home)The odor was overpowering! My 2nd week i got poison ivy after chasing the dog and my 2yo and 5yo out of the neighbors hayfield . I didn't just get it - I had an emergency. It coated me inside and out. My R eye sweeled shut, my r nostril swelled shut, pretty much the whole r side of my face swelled and became immoble and then began to weep that claer fluid. Along with my arms, legs and torso and of course just to make it even better my "bottom" was covered too - a tender recently traumatized place is apparently poison ivy's fav place! The I developed Stridor - I was having trouble breathing b/c it was in my throat too. I cried but then it made breathig more difficult. I felt so low...dh had to work and I had a 2yog 5 yob new baby and no A/C in 95 degrees. I was geting steriod shots around the clock and trying to keep everyone under control and still nurse a tiny baby on my swollen oozing itchy body. Fast forward - I survivied and so did everyone. Important HSing lesson learned- leaves of three, let 'em be! Hang in there...
I have a little, sweet, one week old baby myself.
I think the biggest thing to remember is absolutely how fast this special time flies by. It's something you will never, ever have back again with this child.
I don't have a funny story - we are laughing alot about how many things I've forgotten how to do and how my 13 year old had to sit through a lactation consultant shoving a b###st full into the baby's mouth so she wouldn't clamp down on me!
Other than that it's just learning how to handle life with now 4 children. It takes time and if you don't give it time, you'll look back and see you've missed it.
Be assured the latin, the dishes, all that can wait. Enjoy!
Stephanie
It was probably my second day at home after my third child was born (and hence my third c-section). About fifteen minutes after my husband left for work, my then five-year-old threw up all over our carpeted stairs. As I did my best to clean up the mess, I thought of the list that they give you on things not to do as you recover from a c-section. "Scrubbing throw up off stairs" was technically not on the list, but I had a feeling it was frown upon. I tossed some laundry into the washer, put a video in for the older two, and spent the rest of the day either on the couch or in bed.
I always hesitate to post on things like this because I *only* have three kids. But in this case it will only serve to help your friend realize that there are people way more lame than she is !
When Romy was born I came home from the hospital and I was Wonder Woman. I sewed an apron for the bloggy giveaways. I made crepes with my older daughter so she wouldn't be left out. I kept up with the laundry. I had time to spend with friends. I was A.MA.Zing. (Nevermind that I didn't have to cook a meal for the first month because friends did that, and forget that my husband works from home and was here to do whatever needed to be done - I rocked.)
Then, when she was about 7 days old, Romy woke up. And didn't sleep for about the next 8 months. I functioned in zombie state for a good long time. There were a lot of tears, a lot of worry, a lot of take out dinners. And then, one day, Romy magically figured out how to sleep. And I slept. And it was a beautiful thing.
Now, Romy can stand up - you know the rest - but she can't sit down. So I'm up in the middle of the night peeling her fingers from the cribrail and settling her back into the crib. I'm sleepy. But it's all good. Because my baby - she can stand up! And laugh out loud, and give sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, and chase her brother and sister around the room!
Tell your friend we're all in this together. No one judges her for not getting Latin done or, God forbid, for ordering a pizza. In fact, we love her more for it, because it means she's focusing on the good stuff!
The Barking Dog, or Be Very Very Scared of the Postpartum Mom
When my first ds was born, we lived next to a family with two dogs--one medium dog and one of those small yipping dogs. They left them outside all night, every night. They barked constantly--at the wind, at cars, at anyone passing by. We installed one of those sonic dog-barking things (it makes an inaudible noise when they bark) which helped some... but not much. Mostly I used earplugs and just tolerated the dogs.
Then the baby was born, I was lost in that normal mother of a first new-born haze. He nursed constantly, slept almost never, I hadn't yet learned how to sleep and nurse him, so I would sit up in the rocker and nurse him to sleep for the first couple of weeks. I also had some serious complications post-partum (retained a large piece of placenta, which kept me from walking properly for three weeks--but that's another story) that kept me in constant pain. I was a mess.
One night, the baby had been very fussy. Dh had walked him for a long time, I had been nursing him, and after several hours finally got him calm and to sleep. I laid him down in his bassinet at about 4 am, give or take. We still hadn't really started co-sleeping yet (oh, but we learned for number 2!), and I was just... exhausted. Wiped. I slowly eased back to our bed, and fell in a heap upon my pilllow.
Then the dogs started barking. Again.
I don't know if it would have woken up the baby, but I didn't wait to find out. I totally lost it. I jumped up in my nightgown, and ran outside, through both yards--no shoes, no robe, just me in my nighty--and started pounding on their front door with both fists.
"SHUT THEM UP! MAKE THEM SHUT UP! I JUST HAD A BABY! STOP THE BARKING!" Etc. Ad nauseum. When I didn't get an immediate response to the door (perhaps they were sleeping? Terrified? Considering calling the police?), I moved on to pound on all the available front windows "I JUST HAD A BABY! MAKE THEM STOP! SHUT UP THOSE DOGS! MAKE THEM STOP! I JUST HAD A BABY!" I was stumbling through their flowerbeds from window to window, pounding with my fists on the glass and yelling at the top of my lungs. I was so crazy mad...
By this point lights were going on on the other neighbors' porches.
I don't know how long I pounded and screamed... long enough to get a bit of an audience, and my dh to slink out of our house looking confused. Finally, the front light went on and a window slid open and a pale face appeared. A quiet voice said, "Ok. We'll bring them in. We're sorry."
"GOOD! I JUST HAD A BABY!" I stomped back home, exhausted.
After that (we only lived there 6 more months), the dogs still barked... but never at night! I'm sure they tell this story from the other perspective... "Let me tell you about our crazy neighbor lady, who would stumble about in our yard screaming about her baby..." Ugh. Hormones.
Ohhh.... I'm so sorry for those going thru the experience, but what delightful heart warming stories.
Thanks for sharing.
Pamela
How about a nursing experience?
Third born child would not latch. It was terrible and I was in the most excruciating pain. DH tried to help me get the baby latch properly. My LLC tried to get him latched properly. It just wouldn't work.
My best friend lived aroundthe corner at the time. Her hubby is a pediatric ICU doctor.
I called her in tears, in total meltdown, bawling about this tiny baby who could not eat. I'm just crying in pain and frustration. So she and her DH come over.
So picture me on our queen sized bed, one breat flopped out, my DH, best friend, and her hubby trying to hold my breast, hold the baby, and get everything alighned so I can nurse without pain.
Yes....I felt the same way. But at that very moment I just didn't care.
She still teases me about the time her DH was feeling up my boobs while she and my DH watched.
Now *that* is a friend.
When I had my 2nd one, my friend had her 2nd one two weeks earlier. Our older kids were close in age & we would regularly get together for support & commiseration.
One day, after a week of screaming baby, screaming toddler, screaming mom, & too much tv to appease the screaming toddler - I was moaning to her how even the Little Bear cartoons were making me feel bad. Mama Bear never lost it when Little Bear and his friends made a mess all over the kitchen just as she's about to prepare dinner.
And my friend said, with utter seriousness "They edit that out. Mama Bear loses it regularly and yells & goes into the bathroom to cry." And the absolute ridiculousness of the idea of editing out a cartoon just made us laugh so hard that for years later we would joke about how those things are edited to make Mama Bear & Franklin the Turtle's Mom etc. look good. They're the lost episodes & cut scenes, hidden in the vaults of the studios....
Okay, I have one. The second my son was born, the midwife laid him on my belly, and within seconds he had scooted up, found a nipple, and latched himself on. He stayed this way for two weeks straight, 24 hours a day. He would nurse for an hour, poop, and then nurse for another hour. Con.stant.ly. After two weeks, I was exhausted. My breasts were so sore, bleeding, etc. I would sit propped on pillows in the middle of the night, trying not to wake the Dude, crying silently through the pain of nursing all night long.
The Dude finally noticed what was happening after two weeks, and forced me into the shower, telling me it wouldn't hurt the baby to cry for a bit. The Boy, having been disconnected from his food source, started screaming bloody murder. I was standing in the shower stall just bawling, thinking there was no way I could do this. Suddenly, the screaming stopped. Just. Stopped. In my sleepless hormone-laden brain, I thought, "Oh my god! He killed the baby!. He couldn't take it any more, and he killed him! How will I explain this?!"
I hurriedly got out of the shower, not knowing what to expect other than a dead baby. There the Dude was, sitting on the couch reading. Next to him on a pillow was the tiny Boy, with the headphones snugged up on his teensy head, his arms up in the air, his mouth open mid-cry, but fast asleep. I asked the Dude what music was playing on the headphones- Coleman Hawkins Braham's Lullaby.
I still cherish the photo we took that night, and the Boy, now 16, still falls asleep listening to something every night.
LB
LMAO. I was trying to think of something, anything, but now I'm laughing too hard at "The Barking Dog, or Be Very Very Scared of the Postpartum Mom." Gah, I need the little green smiley that's laughing and slapping the floor.
You know, I don't think I remember much of the first three months of the twin's lives. I was just tired. I was so tired I couldn't see straight. That's good because I was sooo miserably tired I really don't remember much of the first three months of being miserable. It just passes you by. You survive off hormones to give you those warm, squishy feelings toward your babies until a small portion of the rest of your sanity returns.
It doesn't last forever and you will look back in blissful amnesia of it all, except for the sweetness of smelling those wonderful baby heads, if you're smart enough to not blog every detail. No point in that. Make sure she doesn't blog or journal misery. Tell her to leave that out so she can just look back someday and smile.
I can't wait to read through all of the stories. Did you write this for me? ;-) I hope I can make time to read through them all....
Probably my worst post partum story is that when Sarah Jane was about a week old, my two middle boys came down with rotovirus. It was horrible trying to keep them from spurting from either end anywhere near her, and yet be nurturing and loving towards them at the same time. They were so, so, sick, but thanks to my sweet mom who came over the day the middles came down with it, Sarah Jane was spared and nobody else came down with it. The next week I was down with mastitis. UGH. Definitely a huge wake up call to life with four children, but by the grace of God we lived.
mere
Don't have a post-partum story yet, but it's good to see what I have to look forwad to :) These stories are comforting in a way--it's nice to know that if I end up freaking out after our little one is born, I'm not alone :)
I don't remember too much early on...but when my girl was about 6 months old and learning to crawl, I remember just being absolutely exhausted. My husband and I were both in college, and living in this tiny little family "apartment" that the campus had for couples (it was more like a dorm room with more furniture shoved in it and a bigger refridgerator, and a small back yard full of nothing but plants with stickers on them....anyway). So my girl was about 6 months old, and the place was so tiny and i was so tired, that I had been for the past couple months letting her play on the floor for a while and blocking off all areas she could possibly wander to. That way, I could sit on the couch and watch her and play with her, but I didn't have to be "totally focused" since all dangerous things were blocked off. Well one day while husband was in class, my girl fell asleep in her little area while playing with some toys. She was on one of those little fold out kids couch things, and looked so comfy, that I thought I would just lay on the big couch next to her little one and take a quick snooze while she was sleeping. Well, apparently I was really tired. She woke up, and I'm assuming just started playing because I never heard a peep. Until my husband walked in and started screaming....because she had pooped in her lovely little diaper and had spread it ALL over the living room and all over her body, and she had decided to....i don't even want to talk about this...but she was TASTING it. We were both almost sick immediately. So what happened? I ran to go begin cleaning her and the room, and what did husband do? Run to go get the camera to take pictures of the mess to torment me with for the rest of my life. Which he still to this day (dear daughter is 5) enjoys pulling out and showing to all of his friends, at my expense of course. Now its pretty hilarious really, but still equally gross as it was then. haha.
Oh, oh my! You guys are THE BEST! Thank you so much for sharing your stories! Laughter, and knowing you aren't alone, truly are the best post-partum medicine.
I think the worst I ever had it was about a month after James was born. He had colick. I had supply issues. And mastitis. We were both battling yeast from head to toe. It was the end of a hot, hot summer, and we both cried a lot.
We'd bought a Snuggli, and I convinced myself that if I could just keep him close, he would be one of those quiet, calm babies you see on the commercials. Or that he'd at least quit screaming. But they don't really warn you that the Snuggli cuts off the circulation in a newborn's legs... or that there's just no way to really get him in there without suffocating him... or that, once he's in there, it takes two people and some 10W-30 to get him back out.
So there we were, after a few hours, both of us miserable and crying. I hadn't done anything around the house all day. I hadn't showered or dressed. I don't think I'd even brushed my hair, as he'd been crying and screaming all. day. long that day. I couldn't get him out of the thing. I was so stressed and so upset, so I did what any post-partum mother would do: I decided I MUST have a hot meal ready for Zorak when he got home from work. Yes! YES! That would make it all better.
So I dragged my post-partum belly and my tortured, confined infant into the kitchen and started fixing dinner. Why I thought chopping onions was a good idea, I can't say, but that wasn't going so well. Plus, I had to lean in a bit to reach the faucet, so every time I tried to wash my hands, James would kick it up a notch and make my ears want to bleed. (It wasn't until later that I realized I was squishing his little pins-and-needles-numb legs into the counter when I tried to reach the faucet.)
Zorak walked in on what had to be the most disturbing scene... there's his bedraggled wife, sobbing in the kitchen, mauling a carrot for no apparent reason, pressing his screaming, wailing newborn son into the counter as she sobs, "It's... not... ready... I can't... do this..." I was drenched in milk by that point, but couldn't get James out of the Snuggli on my own. The onions were burning on the stove.
I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd had me committed on the spot. Fortunately, he talked me down, helped me ease James out of that damned polyester iron maiden, took over supper and sent me to get a shower. Best shower I've ever had in my life.
It took me a while to really believe I could do this motherhood thing. You don't even want to know how I reacted when I found out Smidge was on the way! There are ups and downs with everything, but they're not abnormal, and we're not abnormal when we don't cope with them in the most magnificent way. The key is to keep hoping, keep trying, and keep being willing to laugh at ourselves. It gets better. One day, we'll laugh. But it's okay if it all doesn't seem particularly funny right this minute. Someday, it will.
{{hugs}}
Dy
Dy, all these stories have made me either laugh or wince in sympathetic pain. My worst was right after having the third one. For whatever reason, having one more than the hands on my body really freaked me out. I was out with my mom one day and all THREE kids started crying at once as I was trying to maneuver through CA traffic. I started laughing. It took some fast talking to convince my mom that I was ok, and it was either laugh or cry at that point. It got better.
Oh I loved reading all these stories, they made me laugh my butt off, cry a little, and smile at the awesomeness of motherhood. How *all* of us, even though most of us have never met, have this strong bond by being mothers through the good times and bad. We are NOT alone!
Honestly wtih 5 children I'm having a difficult time choosing one story and they all seem to blur together. lol
Ok, I've got one! DH and I had our first son out of wedlock and I think our punishment was we had to take him on our honeymoon. LoL DS was 2 months old at our wedding and exclusively breastfed. Well, have you ever tried to nurse in an elaborate wedding gown? There's a reason you should have a baby AFTER you get married folks! ;-) So, a good family friend ran to the store to grab formula out of our desperation. He had never had anything but breastmilk and this well meaning friend got formula with IRON. Can you see where this is going? So, the wedding goes wonderfully and the baby is happy with the formula. Let's fast forward to our wedding night.
DH and I were young and poor (as opposed to old and poor like we are now -hehe). So we decided to spend the night at a really nice hotel with some of our wedding money for our honeymoon. We rented a suite and spoiled ourselves. When it came time to put the baby to bed he wasn't having it. We co-slept and he usually just nursed to sleep no problem. Not this time. He screamed...and screamed...and screamed. It didn't stop at 30 minutes or an hour...or 2 hours or even 3! DH and I finally had to sleep in shifts. He would walk the baby around the room in his stroller for an hour then wake me up so I could do it. This went on for over 6 hours!!!! Finally, when it started getting light outside and any hope of reprieve was dashed DH thought maybe a warm bath would help. So, he took DS to the bath and all of a sudden I heard him screaming, "JESS GET IN HERE QUICK - EWWWWWWWWWW - HELP!!!". What in the world? I groggily got out of bed and went in there. There was a sleeping baby in DH's arms in the bath and a bathtub FULLLLL of fresh baby poop in the water!
So kids, this is why you have children after you get married. We plan on honeymooning when our 5th child moves out. ;-)
Dy remember when I was petrified to shop with THREE children at once? She's a good person to call when you're scared out of your mind about something. If the phone call begins with "Dy/Jess, I need you to talk me down", then you know it's one of those moments. ;-)
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