It's been five weeks since I gave birth to my son.
It's amazing how much things can change in even five weeks. I look outside and the leaves are changing and falling from the trees. The temperature has noticeably fallen and there is a distinct smell of autumn in the air whenever you walk outside. The squirrels are constantly eating and storing up for what I'm guessing is going to be a cold winter. In my mind I remember all the way back to January when I first learned I was pregnant and think...where did this year go? I spent the entire summer as big as a house and now here we are. This leads me to the next lesson along the path--seasons change.
My last post wasn't very sunny. I've been working through the intense emotions that come with leaving a seven year career and becoming a stay-at-home mom, not to mention the marathon that is pregnancy and delivery and new motherhood. I am horribly sleep deprived and on the steepest learning curve of my life trying to navigate the needs of this new life in my arms. There are days where I resent my decisions, not because they are bad but because in a way this feels like voluntary imprisonment and insanity. There are moments that make up for all of it--when my little one smiles at me and giggles it makes all of the craziness seem worth it. My point is I'm a work in progress. This life I'm building is some massive construction site and the bricks and mortar are laying everywhere. But the seasons are changing. I realized yesterday as I took my first jog around my block ever so slowly that my body despite being bent all kinds of ways is still healthy and strong. It's going to take a hell of a lot of work to get me back to where I was pre-baby and I may not even get there. The days of being (relatively) effortlessly in shape may be behind me. But this is the new season of my life as a mother. I read a very sobering article on post partum body image here: http://www.lalecheleague.org/nb/nbsepoct00p156.html
The same goes for the stay-at-home part. I read a fantastic article on that here: http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/10/09/youre-a-stay-at-home-mom-what-do-you-do-all-day/
It helps me put these things into perspective when I stop thinking about all the things I gave up to stop working and think instead on all the things I'm gaining by being with my little one every day. I don't have to pay for daycare sure, but I also don't have to agonize over someone else raising my child and me only getting time with him on weekends. I realize everyday that the little signals he gives to let me know he needs something are his own language, and I can care for him better because I recognize it. I also think of the bonds we're building and I am crazy thankful everyday that my husband is hard working and loves his family and I can raise our kids.
These are the seasons of my life. They constantly change. But I'm getting slowly better at being OK with that.
Denora
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
The Untold Story
I wrote quite a bit during my pregnancy because for me it marked one of the most influential and amazing periods of my life. To this day I still marvel that my body was able to grow another living human and bring him successfully into the world.
Today I'm going to write on a bit of a darker topic. This by no means diminishes the joy and love I feel when I hold my son in my arms, but there are things that need to be said because I feel we as a society don't talk about certain topics or we brush over them and minimize their effect--then we wonder why so many people dance the line of suicide or worse. I'm writing as a way to cope with my own inner dialogue, and hopefully my words ring true enough to help someone in the future either talk to a friend or manage their own inner dialogue.
The first thing I want to address, and something we don't talk about is labor and delivery of humans. Women in America are exposed to an over-dramatized idea of what labor is like, how long it takes, and how painful it is--driving the majority of them to seek some sort of external pain management either through an epidural or by c-section. I have my own feelings about the ability of a woman's body to do something it has done without medical intervention for millenia, but for the sake of keeping this simple I will just limit it to saying I gave birth naturally with no medical intervention. I was very blessed to have an outstanding birth team (both midwives and my doula) and I labored for thirteen hours with my son. No one tells you how excruciating, frightening, wonderful, and empowering this experience can be. Women no longer tell you the empowerment behind birthing another soul because they are so afraid of the process and hospitals have capitalized on continuing to feed that fear. In the throws of labor a woman meets her maker and finds out the absolute limits of her body. It is a terrifying experience and one that leaves you scarred, but also gives you the most satisfying sense of accomplishment. In the end though you are reduced to a shaking, sweating, painful mess no matter how you give birth. This rite of initiation into motherhood is just the beginning.
The next thing I want to address is the aftermath. They say that "baby blues" are the normal fallout following childbirth as your system fights to regulate the cocktail of hormones that flowed through you both during pregnancy and labor. People come and go, bring you food, hold your baby, offer to cook for you and help you clean, and you are an emotional mess. You are ridiculously in love with this small human, and yet your body is now inextricably tied to its survival. You cry for no reason, you just want to be by yourself, you hate the changes in your body, and you are now a slave to this lifestyle. You don't sleep, you can't have sex, and despite your best efforts sometimes the baby just cries and cries. You have lost yourself in the folds of this new life. It feels like you're drowning. If this goes on for too long it's labeled as depression and people become uncomfortable. They want you to seek medical help.
No one tells you these things when you become pregnant or before. Well, I'm putting these things out there. My life is forever changed. I am grateful beyond measure, but stop minimizing my experiences to Hollywood versions of labor and shining happy parenthood afterwards. I feel like there are many women who go through this and not enough resources that don't involve psychologists and medication. When you are silently suffering on the inside the last thing you want is to explain yourself to every person who asks how you're doing.
Denora
Today I'm going to write on a bit of a darker topic. This by no means diminishes the joy and love I feel when I hold my son in my arms, but there are things that need to be said because I feel we as a society don't talk about certain topics or we brush over them and minimize their effect--then we wonder why so many people dance the line of suicide or worse. I'm writing as a way to cope with my own inner dialogue, and hopefully my words ring true enough to help someone in the future either talk to a friend or manage their own inner dialogue.
The first thing I want to address, and something we don't talk about is labor and delivery of humans. Women in America are exposed to an over-dramatized idea of what labor is like, how long it takes, and how painful it is--driving the majority of them to seek some sort of external pain management either through an epidural or by c-section. I have my own feelings about the ability of a woman's body to do something it has done without medical intervention for millenia, but for the sake of keeping this simple I will just limit it to saying I gave birth naturally with no medical intervention. I was very blessed to have an outstanding birth team (both midwives and my doula) and I labored for thirteen hours with my son. No one tells you how excruciating, frightening, wonderful, and empowering this experience can be. Women no longer tell you the empowerment behind birthing another soul because they are so afraid of the process and hospitals have capitalized on continuing to feed that fear. In the throws of labor a woman meets her maker and finds out the absolute limits of her body. It is a terrifying experience and one that leaves you scarred, but also gives you the most satisfying sense of accomplishment. In the end though you are reduced to a shaking, sweating, painful mess no matter how you give birth. This rite of initiation into motherhood is just the beginning.
The next thing I want to address is the aftermath. They say that "baby blues" are the normal fallout following childbirth as your system fights to regulate the cocktail of hormones that flowed through you both during pregnancy and labor. People come and go, bring you food, hold your baby, offer to cook for you and help you clean, and you are an emotional mess. You are ridiculously in love with this small human, and yet your body is now inextricably tied to its survival. You cry for no reason, you just want to be by yourself, you hate the changes in your body, and you are now a slave to this lifestyle. You don't sleep, you can't have sex, and despite your best efforts sometimes the baby just cries and cries. You have lost yourself in the folds of this new life. It feels like you're drowning. If this goes on for too long it's labeled as depression and people become uncomfortable. They want you to seek medical help.
No one tells you these things when you become pregnant or before. Well, I'm putting these things out there. My life is forever changed. I am grateful beyond measure, but stop minimizing my experiences to Hollywood versions of labor and shining happy parenthood afterwards. I feel like there are many women who go through this and not enough resources that don't involve psychologists and medication. When you are silently suffering on the inside the last thing you want is to explain yourself to every person who asks how you're doing.
Denora
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