Yesterday Lucas turned 10 weeks old! This piece of
information is wonderful in that it means I have kept him alive for the past 10
weeks, and I feel that I am nearing my departure from the “postpartum timeframe”.
I don’t think people accept the “I just had a baby” excuse past 3 months. Also,
it is important that I start doing things like putting on pants and getting out
of the house. It has been a great past 2 and a half months, full of
challenging, adorable, exhausting, and hilarious events. I am a chronic
journal-er so, here is my experience:
Post Partum Day 1:Where did this baby come from? Just kidding. We spent two days in the hospital after I delivered Lucas, and they were just the sweetest. I cannot describe the joy of holding Lucas and sleeping with him on my chest after 39 weeks of impatience. Enrique was so wonderful to the both of us. I really enjoyed watching him become a father and take in his brand new son. We both stared at him-took in every detail. I would like to call this stage, “Blissfully unconcerned” because I was so excited and happy that I was not concerned about pain after my surgery, the fact that I was swollen 2-3x larger than I normally was, or that I had not slept in 36 plus hours. It didn’t bother me that the only way I could pee after pushing for four hours was to squat in the shower. (Don’t even get me started on how I figured that one out.) Breastfeeding was an exciting new challenge- the ultimate act of motherhood, feeding my child with only what God had given me. Hear me roar. It was during this time I experienced the first symptom of my baby blues. I was holding and admiring Lucas when I looked at Enrique and said, “It is crazy how they just come out and…” (The rest of this sentence was choked out) “…and you just love them SO MUCH.” (Cue sobbing.)
When we
came home I immediately regretted not staying in the hospital one extra night.
Holy Moly my incision hurt so badly. Why did I leave the mechanical magic that
was my hospital bed? Where were those super kind nurses who brought me food and
pain meds and told me how great I was doing? The first night we were home was
filled with anxiety for me. I was suddenly painfully aware of the aftermath of
a cesarean section. Also, every squeak that Lucas made had me terrified that
his airway was closing up, or he was aspirating, or that I would wake up and he
would have died from SIDS. If you have not met my baby Lucas then you don’t
know that he is the loudest baby in at least all of Tennessee. Lucas does
nothing quietly. At night each exhalation is a loud squeak, when he eats, he
inhales with a squawk and finishes it with a loud GULP. It is so loud I have
had to just pause any movie or T.V. show I might be watching and just wait. I
even ended a phone conversation with Enrique, “Just tell me when you get home,
I can’t hear you over Lucas.” To top it all off, the first four days after we
came home were marked with hours of going to the Kid’s clinic and then to the
hospital to have Lucas’ bilirubin blood levels check. I knew all of this was
very normal, but when we were at the clinic for the first time and I saw how yellow
his eyes were I was pretty upset. His pediatrician is a kind but brash Jewish
lady and I struggled to translate her accented instructions with tears running
down my face. (Again, baby blues.) Her instructions were to wake Lucas up every
two hours and feed him. Newborns are chronically sleepy so this process
involved a lot of baby torture. Cool wet cloths, rubbing feet, rubbing his head
against the grain of his hair. Unfortunately, all of this Momma torture too.
The majestic practice of breastfeeding turned into a grueling burden. I
remember sitting on my couch at three in the morning with bleeding and sore
nipples and experiencing terrible contractions. (Breastfeeding helps your
uterus return to its original size by- you guessed it: contracting.) Luckily
these symptoms all subsided fairly quickly. The incision pain was gone in about
a week and all of the pain was productive in that Lucas gained almost a whole
pound and his bilirubin levels were down.
Week
two my doula came and visited me which was good timing. Lucas had been holding
me hostage in a chair for an hour to an hour and a half for each feeding. I had
become rather lazy and had been giving him bottles at night and just pumping because
it seemed easier than nursing. She gave me a friendly and loving swift kick in
the pants to persevere and I am grateful for it. Now, I don’t pump unless Lord
Voldemort personally drags me out of the house and rams my head into a concrete
wall for 5 whole minutes while telling me I am a terrible mother who won’t be
there to feed my child. Just to paint a picture of how much I hate pumping.
Lucas
has struggled with newborn acne and has very dry skin. All of this is
completely normal no matter how often your husband asks you, so don’t doubt
yourself. “Why does he stick his tongue out like that?” “Is his eye okay?” “Are
you sure that’s normal?” “Why can’t we sleep train at 2 weeks?” Other fun
things that Enrique has had to get used to is changing diapers. For a while
every time he went to change Lucas I would hear, “OH! ARGH! OH MY G-
KATHERINE!”
Our
marriage has changed phenomenally as well. Most changes are good, I really feel
that we have handled adding a new tiny demanding person into our home very
well. I would be lying if I told you some parts weren’t challenging or that we
weren’t at eachother’s throats sometimes. Our time together, time apart,
downtime, and just time in general is now spent completely differently. As a
mother my thoughts are constantly bent towards Lucas and I have to fight to keep
Enrique top priority. I struggled with my body image before pregnancy and my
post-pregnancy body has brought me new challenges. Extra skin that hangs over a
long surgical scar and covered in pink stretch marks. I now worry about
lactating all over things and spend my days getting spat up on and using baby
talk. I have come to the conclusion that when a baby nurses they are actually
sucking out all of your sex appeal. Needless to say, my confidence is low and I
struggle with wanting to show that off.
I also have recently started struggling more
with the fact that I can no longer just do what I want, when I want, at the
pace I want. If I want to eat lunch and catch a show on Netflix, Lucas will
undoubtedly suddenly need to eat, or he will have pooped his pants, or just
need some time with Mom. I will need to go to the grocery store- something I
have never loved doing anyway, but now I have to lug around a fussy 11 pound
baby and constantly fear that some creep is going to try and snatch him away if
I look away for a second. I struggle with sleep because I feel like I am
constantly “on”. Trying to fall asleep when your baby squeaks, your husband
snores, and your dog decides to eat as loudly as possible at 1 in the morning
is difficult.
I love
being a mom so much though. That being said, I feel that I need to start taking
care of myself a little better in order to be a better mom. To stop making
excuses spend consistent and valuable time with the Lord, to submit to, be
gentle with and love my husband no matter how I am feeling that day, feed
myself healthy food, make it out to the gym and get the rest that I know my
body needs. All of these things would set a great example for my son. I see so
many beautiful characteristics in other mothers and I just want to take and
mush them all together into my soul and imitate and emulate the godliness,
self-control, nurturing, and love. Not to mention just all around “coolness.” I
love being surrounded by these women who are so supportive and patient with my
first time mom questions, who remind me to stay calm, and who can laugh with me
when you realize that you have spent the good part of an hour at a dark
restaurant with poop all over your shirt.
Motherhood rocks.
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