On Postpartum Depression

In my last post, and the several before that, I wrote about the struggles of being a new mom: the birth, the piles and piles of stuff you need to keep the little screamer alive, the emotional roller coaster that is new motherhood—the hard part. Well, my baby is 10-months-old now and I’m almost ready to talk about something else. But before I do, I have one last story to tell...

Having Jack was difficult. And by that, I mean the physical act of bringing a baby into the world was difficult. After a 16-hour labor and three hours of pushing with no pain medication (I think someone gave me an ibuprofen after he was born) I was exhausted. The first things I thought when they put him on my chest was, “thank God it’s over” and “is his head always going to look like that?” Imagine Coneheads x1000. It wasn’t what I expected to feel or what I wanted to feel. I wanted the flood of emotions that everyone promised me. I wanted the bonding moment and the one-hour of uninterrupted skin-to-skin before we allowed visitors. I never thought that I would literally be too exhausted to lift my arms.

In the days that we spent at the hospital after he was born, I did ok. Maybe even a little better than ok. With the help of my nurses I wobbled to the bathroom only when absolutely necessary. Jack nursed fairly easily and my milk came in right on schedule. I’ve been told that I was lucky. We had visitors during the day and the help of our nurses at night. I held my perfect baby and watched him breathe and Will and I laughed like crazy people at all the sounds that came from his little body. I loved him. There has never been a moment in his life when I've questioned that.

I experienced true anxiety for the first time in my life the night after we got home from the hospital. It was New Year’s Day and Alabama was playing Ohio State for the first round of college football playoffs. We decided it would be nice to get out and take Jack to my parent’s house for collard greens and black-eyed peas and football. When he started crying during the middle of the football game, I got up to walk him around the house like I usually did when he was upset. As I stood in my parent’s bedroom holding a screaming a baby, looking at the reflection of my new life in their mirror and my confused pup at my feet, it hit me for the first time. I was deeply homesick for a life I had left behind and I didn’t feel at all prepared for what was expected of me; what was needed from me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I cried for the first time since he was born.

My anxiety attacks continued every night at sunset for the next two weeks. I remember reading online that a lot of women struggled with “the baby blues” and it usually got better by day 14. I lived by that number. Every night at sunset my anxiety would come and every night at sunset I would count the number of days I had left until day 14. I told myself if I was still having these feelings then, I would tell someone. Sometimes having visitors would make me feel better, most of the time, it made it worse. The thought of Will leaving the house or, even worse, Will actually leaving the house sent me into complete panic. What if the baby cried? What if I didn't know what was wrong? What if I couldn't help him? What if he didn't sleep? What if I never slept again? Exactly 14 days after Jack was born, the anxiety attacks stopped. I still had feelings of sadness and fear and worry, but I could breathe through them and they didn't come as often.

For the next several months, I lived my life on our living room sofa. I referred to it as our "headquarters" in conversation—conversation that didn't happen often. Having a baby, especially when your friends don't have babies, can be extremely isolating. No matter how much I tried to assure everyone that I was capable of having conversations that didn't revolve around feeding schedules and sleeping habits (I actually desperately needed to have those conversations) it seemed that there was a wall between us that didn't exist before. Some of my friends found a way to work through that with me, a lot of them didn't.

It took about six months from the time Jack was born for me to have moments when I felt like myself again. Moments when the thought of being a child's mother for the rest of my life didn't seem totally terrifying. Moments when he slept and I slept and Will slept and we all woke up cuddled together laughing at each other's silliness. There were definitely moments of clarity but, more often than not, I struggled with everything that was required of me to be a mother.

I remember perfectly the day it all changed. It was a sunny Sunday morning in late September. Will and I had decided we would skip church that day and enjoy the cooler weather and the noticeable change in seasons. I spent the early morning watching health food documentaries and making grocery lists while Jack napped and Will mowed the grass. Later that day, as I walked to my car with a grocery bag full of fresh veggies for soup, I felt my life shift back to equilibrium. I don't know how else to explain it or why it happened in that moment. Maybe somebody prayed me over the edge (I don't know if it works like that) or maybe it was just my season to love life again, but something changed that day. For the first time since Jack was born, I had an overwhelming peace about being his mother. I could still have dinner with my friends and stay up a little too late talking about life. I could still read books (short books) and watch food documentaries and even go to the grocery store by myself every once in a while. There was still room for me in my life.  A forever changed, humbled and a bit more tired version of me—but me.

I have written all of this as honestly as I know how and as true as it exists in my heart. There are holes and unfinished thoughts and flawed reasoning, but that is the life that I have lived. What I want you to know is that, today, I can say without a second’s hesitation that my son is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Being his mother is my greatest accomplishment, my biggest fear and the most humbling of journeys. If someone had told me six months ago that I would be excited for the weekends that Will worked because it meant I got to have my little man all to myself, I would've laughed (or probably cried) in their face and then prayed to the Lord that they were an actual prophet who knew something I didn’t. There is no sweeter sound in the world than my baby’s voice when he says “mama.” There is no place I’d rather be in the morning than standing over his crib as he looks up at me, reaches his arms out and smiles. I have written all of this for any of you that have ever experienced some of these same feelings. Because they're valid and because you're not alone and because it really is going to be ok. I have written this as a promise to you that it gets better. So, so much better than you could ever imagine.

For more info on postpartum depression or to find local resources, visit www.postpartum.net

P.S. My next post is going to be about hair or home décor or food or something.

the hard part

I've only had one dream in my life that has never changed. From the time I was a baby, I wanted to be a mommy. I wanted something to care for and love and to watch grow and to nurture. When I was three, I lined my baby carriage with my mom's hosta leaves so my doll would have a soft place to lay her head. When I was six, I wrote a letter to the Birmingham Zoo asking how I could adopt one of their monkeys. I wanted to feed it a bottle and change its diaper and carry it around my neck. Being a mother is the one thing that I have always wanted, the one control in all of my variables. How did I not know it would be this hard?

I read an article this week that compared the first year of a child's life to the death of a partner, divorce and unemployment. From those surveyed, the consensus was the first year of a child's life is worse for your happiness than any of the other three. Worse than death. Why has nobody said that to me before? A follow up article from NPR suggests it may be so we don't scare all the potential parents so bad that the human race becomes extinct. More likely, it suggests that the first year, in comparison with all the joys that follow, is so small that it just doesn't matter much. It's minuscule and fleeting. I believe that. 

But there is an in-between time of absolute insanity, and I think we have to talk about it more. Maybe it's a little postpartum depression and a little sleep deprivation and a little total loss of identity as we become the life source of something far more precious than ourself. I can write those things, and I can know those things, and I can explain those things to my friends that don't have babies. But there are still moments when scary thoughts creep into my mind. Weird things. Sad things. Mean things. Thoughts that I know are not born out of my heart. 

Having a baby is hard. I need to tell you that. Because you can't see it on my instagram and my "Jack is six month's old today!" facebook posts. Because I didn't tell you in the grocery store and because yes, he does smile a lot. Having a baby is hard because you come home from work and want to change into something comfortable and take a deep breath, but your baby isn't ready to be put down yet (is he ever?). Having a baby is hard because no matter how many times someone tells you, "It's ok to let him cry it out a little so you can take a shower," you'll still jump out of the shower with shampoo in your hair and one leg shaved to pick him up out of his bouncer so he never has to think you won't be there. Having a baby is hard because you can't watch E! News anymore. Because your baby is crawling on your face and he needs to be picked up and put down and he wants his paci and wants the dog to lick it and you to clean it and to cry because you're at the sink and he can't pull your hair. Having a baby is hard because there is no moment when you aren't needed, no moment when the needs of someone else don't come before your own. Having a baby is hard because you will want so badly for your baby to go to sleep so you can sit on the back porch and have a glass of wine with your friends and talk about things that don't matter, and he just won't sleep. Having a baby is hard because you will have feelings of absolute joy when you walk out the door for work on Monday morning, and then wonder what kind of mother could feel that way about leaving her child. And having a baby is hard because you'll discover that it's possible to disagree with your husband about things you didn't even know you had an opinion on, and your mind will make up ways that his innocent comment was actually him telling you that you're not a good mother.

But one afternoon you'll sit on the floor with your baby, and he'll crawl to your lap and pull himself up by your hair. And he'll look into your eyes and behind his paci you'll see a smile start to spread across his face. Because he's looking at the one person who he knows will always pick him up when he cries, and rock him to sleep until he's 5 if he wants, and plan his meals just right so his tummy doesn't hurt and hold him a little tighter when he can't quite figure out how to relax his tiny body and drift to sleep. And in that fleeting moment you'll think that there is a chance that what you're doing might be worth everything you're giving up. 

And one night you'll stay up past your bedtime to lay in bed with your husband and watch old movies and laugh about life again. And right before you close your eyes for the night, you'll think, "I can do all of this again tomorrow."

This one is for the people in my life that encourage me to tell it like it is.

a few of our favorite things

  

 

One of the reasons I started this blog was so that I could look back on these first months of motherhood and remember what life looked like. I want to remember all of the little details and firsts. I want to remember his moods and the things he liked and didn't like and how Will and I felt about taking on this new adventure.

Furniture: When we brought J-man home from the hospital I was super nervous about where he would sleep. I knew I wanted him near by but was too anxious to have him in our bed (or even let Will nap with him on the couch). Because of his little bit of reflux, being flat on his back wasn't an option either. Enter the nuna leaf. This thing was seriously a life saver our first few weeks at home. We would swaddle Jack really tight and just kind of set him in the straps like a lock and key (see picture above). The leaf sat right beside the bed and when he would start stirring, I would just give him a couple of pushes--it isn't battery powered, so no loud noises, and uses the weight of the baby to keep it in motion--and he would usually go back to sleep. We seriously love this thing. Now that he's bigger he uses it to watch his light show, a.k.a the TV, while I make my coffee in the mornings.

Once he got a little older and we realized he would sleep 5+ hours on his stomach, we moved him to his baby bjorn bassinet beside our bed. I picked this one out because, unlike a lot of bassinets, it wasn't bulky and ugly and the mesh siding and organic mattress made me feel a lot more comfortable about letting him sleep on his belly.

Now he sleeps in our bed. Yep, we break all the rules around here.

Clothes: I've always thought that babies should look like babies until they're not babies anymore. There is nothing that makes me more uncomfortable than seeing an infant in jeans. Seriously, who wants to sleep in jeans? With J-man we're all about the comfort. And the fewer snaps, the better cause this little dude hates being naked and will let you know quick. Our favorites are kissy kissy and kickee pants. They're super soft and come in solid colors and a few cute patterns. Now that he's sleeping with us, he just sleeps in a plain gerber onesie because he gets super hot from all the body heat. And that's basically his wardrobe! If we're going to church or a wedding or something then I'm a like the little bubbles because you can see his chunky thighs. But that doesn't happen much with a two month old.

Diapers: Seventh Generation are my favorite. They're all natural, non-bleached, etc, etc. We've tried the Honest Co. diapers and I like them alright. Some of the designs are a lot cuter than the light brown color of the SG diapers, but I have commitment issues and don't want to subscribe to a diaper service.

Feeding: We use Dr. Browns glass bottles. I like that we can just but them directly in his bottle warmer, or if we're out somewhere a pot of hot water, and they heat up really quickly. Plus you don't have to worry about any of the plastic stuff leaking into the milk or whatever it is that you're supposed to worry about giving your baby cancer.

Kiinde milk storage bags and bottle warmer. I like these because they have a twist top and they stand up by themselves in the refrigerator. You can also put the bag directly in the warmer or put the milk in a bottle first and then warm it. We bought the Kiinde bottles too but J wasn't a fan.

Etc: We love his pottery barn sherpa stroller blanket. It's really cozy for him and if you use the side that isn't fuzzy, it's not too hot.

Aiden and Anais bibs. Wasn't crazy about the blankets but the bibs are super soft and really big which I like.

Nuna pipa car seat. Seriously the best thing ever. It's very lightweight, easy to install in the car, made out of a really cool almost memory foam material and it looks awesome ;)

The only toy he's really been into yet is his play gym thing from ikea. He also likes a little musical inchworm stuffed thing? But for the most part he just likes to look at his mom and dad.

our wedding (part II)

all photos by Cathrine Taylor

THE DETAILS

Location: Pleasant Ridge Presbyterian Church; Everhope Plantation (Greene County, AL)

Photographer: Cathrine Taylor Photography (Birmingham, AL)

My Dress: The Sentamentalist (Atlanta, GA)

Bridesmaids Dresses: J Crew

Catering: Savory Solutions (Aliceville, AL)

Band: Seabass and the Fellas (Tuscaloosa, AL)

Moon: built by a friend (similar here)

our wedding

photos by Cathrine Taylor

(except this one)

Will and I got married last July in Pleasant Ridge, Ala., the community in Greene County where he grew up. When we first started talking about our wedding I was absolutely sure I wanted it to be in the little white chapel at the end of the dirt road that he grew up on. He, however, took some convincing. His memories of the church were hot summer mornings that turned to afternoons and stole his last few hours of daylight before school started back on Monday. My feelings were a bit more romanticized. Growing up, my idea of a castle was a white plantation house with columns and tall ceilings and mismatched door knobs (not kidding, ask my dad). So a few weeks after we met and Will showed me the house he grew up in and the little white church at the end of the road, I started planning our wedding (just kidding... kind of).

I wouldn't have changed a single thing about our wedding day or where we got married. Even though it was one of the hottest days of the year and only one side of the church had air conditioning, every bit of the day was so special to us. It was fun and relaxed, simple and familiar. I was so happy to be able to show my friends and family one of the places where Will and I really got to know each other and where we spend our free afternoons in the fall every year. I can't wait for Jack to be able to explore Pleasant Ridge and find his own magic out there.  

P.S. This is my husband on our wedding day sitting on the front porch of the house where I was getting ready. The house he grew up in. The white plantation house with columns and tall ceilings and mismatched doorknobs. Life really is the sweetest thing.

why i chose an unmedicated birth

"We have a secret in our culture and it's not that birth is painful. It's that women are strong. "

Laura Stavoe Harm

When I first found out I was pregnant with Jack, there were very few things in life that I was sure about. I knew how much I loved his dad and I knew I would do everything I could to keep him safe and bring him into this world happy and healthy. When Will and I started discussing exactly how we would get the little guy here and I told him I wanted an unmedicated birth, I'm pretty sure he thought I was crazy. And in hindsight I really didn't have any idea what I was saying. As women, we hear all the time how painful and scary childbirth is. We hear the horror stories of the epidurals that didn't quite work or the hours and hours of pushing only to be rushed into the operating room at the last moment. So we do our best to get things under control. We set our induction dates, we schedule our c-sections, we know what medicines we can get and how fast they will work and how soon we can get them. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. The best way to bring a child into this world is any way you possibly can. I think by becoming educated on the medicines available and the induction process and the ways c-sections are performed we feel like we have a little bit more control over something we've learned to fear. It makes sense and it gives us peace and, if everything goes according to planned, we get to bring our babies into the world feeling strong and confident and peaceful. That is a beautiful thing that I respect and understand and have absolutely no argument against.

I chose to have an unmedicated birth for some of those very same reasons. I wanted to feel a little bit more control over something I'd been taught to fear. For me, that meant taking away the variables. Stripping the whole thing down to the basic mechanics and leaving the rest out. Instead of becoming educated on the variables, I wanted to know more about the constant. Because at the end of the day, my baby was going to be born somehow. So I read books, I asked questions, I watched YouTube videos (don't do that) and I found people who understood and supported my desires. After a few conversations and a documentary or two, Will was that person. Our doula, Natalie, was that person. The doctor we chose was that person. And eventually, our families were those people. I chose an unmedicated birth because I wanted to give my body a chance to show me what it could do on its own before I decided that it needed help. I wanted to trust that I was made for this moment and I wanted to witness a true miracle of God knowing that I could not have done it alone. I wanted to be a part of a bond with the women of history, to truly understand the labor it took to perpetuate the human race. I wanted a clear head when my baby was placed on my chest and an easier recovery when we got home. I wanted to begin my journey as a mother knowing that I had just done one of the most difficult things that I would ever do and that I had survived it.

Going into it, I could've never known how the experience would bring Will and I closer than I ever thought it was possible to be with another person. I couldn't have known that it would give me the confidence I needed to get through those first anxiety filled weeks. Going into it, I had absolutely no idea how much something could hurt and how dutifully my body could handle it. Birth, especially of the unmedicated variety, is not glamorous, it's not quick and it's not clean. But it is certainly the most beautiful thing I have ever been a part of.

stay tuned for our birth story...

nursery

It's been almost three months since we brought our little man home from the hospital and it's already hard to remember what life was like without him. He is absolutely perfect. He is every single thing I never knew I needed and I wouldn't trade a second of it or how we got here.

One of our favorite things to do (besides cuddling on the couch watching E! News) is to hang out in his nursery. It's by far my favorite room in our house. When I started working on it I knew I wanted a space that he could grow into and define for himself as he gets older. His furniture is mostly things I already had before Will and I got married. I didn't want to spend too much on anything until I knew if we were really going to use it (I'm pretty sure he's slept in his crib a total of one whole hour and most of his diapers are changed on our bed or in the floor). His crib is just a plain ole Jenny Lind we got at a consignment shop for less than $100. Even though we hardly ever use it, I do really love the concept of his little changing pad. It's made of a kind of foamy material so when he has accidents--and he does-- we don't have to worry about washing and replacing sheets, we just wipe it down with some soap and hot water and it's good as new! Jack man's favorite thing in his nursery is his flag. When he was really little and going through his almost-colicky phase, it was one of the only things that would keep him calm for more than a few minutes. We would just hold him and he would stare at it like it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Apparently the little ones like things with lots of contrast when their eye sight is developing. Either that or he's just a super patriot already which is fine with me :)

Our friend Cathrine Taylor took these photos for us a few weeks after we got home and, like everything she does, I am totally in love with them.