I was up late the other night, helping a fellow mama with her new baby via text message. (Yep... text message.) No matter how experienced a mama may be there's always something that pops up that you didn't expect. Something that throws you for a loop that leaves you second guessing things you were so sure were going to happen. When your expectations are thrown out the window it's hard to accept the true present- the reality- of things.
It's some hard stuff, this mama business.
"... I get so darn stuck in it. And I wish I could tell you what you need to do to work through that. But, I can't because I don't know how to do it for myself, " was a partial text that I sent to my mama-friend during our continued conversation, trying my best to reassure her.
I really wish I knew how to do it for myself.
Post-partum depression is kicking me in the butt. Hard. I struggle with the fact that I have it. (And it's clear- I do have it.) Before I was pregnant I always said I would probably get it but after Birdie hit 4-months-old I thought I was in the clear. I thought I would be weepy all of the time. I thought my bond with Birdie would reverse itself. I thought I would be so wishy-washy and undecided in my mothering. Nope... the reality is quite the opposite of what I originally thought which, in itself, is also a challenge. (And a blessing...?)
I don't want to convey a message that I'm constantly stuck in it. The majority of my days are "business as usual," and filled with many wonderful things: a silly, almost crawling baby who snuggles her face into my neck while simultaneously patting my back every time I pick her up. Two dogs who crack me up as they attempt to climb our big oak trees trying to catch a pair a squirrels. A husband that surprises me with a box of my favorite cookies and who sends me funny text messages all day. (Gosh, I love that man!) Those moments are always bright spots.
And then there's a shift.
It could be an external situation or internal... or both... but a shift nonetheless. Suddenly, heavy iron doors start shutting down inside and it's not long before I feel trapped inside myself. My anxiety level raises. It feels like tiny pins inside me are bursting and trying to escape through my skin, and I start checking myself to see if I'm physically shaking. Then my eyes search for the nearest clock. "How long will it last this time?" Every minute that passes feels like an eternity when I'm stuck in it. It's very lonely here. Unbearably lonely. Those wonderful moments and interactions become life preservers thrown out to rescue me but if I reach them I cannot hang onto them long enough. Everything becomes irritable and personally offensive- the glass left out on the counter... the pile of laundry waiting to be folded... a husband asking for assistance... I struggle to control my responses. The only way I know how to survive the shift is to either zone out and refrain from speaking or to clean... obsessively.
I keep checking the clock.
"Ugh, it's only been ___ minutes!"
It becomes harder to hold on.
"How much longer?!"
Eventually there's another shift.
This one comes on much slower, like the sun slowly melting ice. I begin to hold on to the brights spots and interactions for longer periods. Anxiety settles enough for me to control my breath. I can finally put down the sponge, vacuum and all-purpose cleaner. Those heavy iron doors open enough for me to notice the details around me- the smell of my Anthropologie candle burning, two dogs curled up asleep in their beds, a baby rooting on my chest for a snack... It's finally over.
I remind my new mama friend that eventually things will get better, no matter how hard and difficult things are now. No matter how hard and strenuous the moment is... it'll pass... eventually. I remind myself, too. This wasn't what I really expected, or wanted, but it's the true present... it's the reality.
I glance over at my birdie-girl to see what she's getting into now. She's scooted her way off the living room rug and onto the tile. She flashes me a toothy, cheesy smile. I respond with a similar scrunchy smile back. I'm back in the true present, the one that I want to stay in the most. This is the true present that I welcome.
