Between the hormones, lack of sleep, physical pain & discomfort, dependency on others, worry about your newborn, pressure to do everything “right” and the transition into a new lifestyle, postpartum is nothing but extremely difficult. It’s the absolute hardest thing I’ve ever been through. And I expect one of the hardest I’ll ever do.
I need to say I definitely feel overly fortunate to not have suffered from postpartum depression. Going through recovery pretty normally and still having a hard time makes my heart ache for those moms who experience PPD. I can’t even imagine that on top of everything else. These conversations about the reality of postpartum are so important. Which is why I wanted to share my story.
If you follow me on Instagram, you probably know I tried and tried to share my progress in real time. I wanted to document more of the daily recovery and my story through it all. But every time I began digging deep, I would become overwhelmed with emotion. Instead, I did what I do best. I opened my iPhone notes and dumped it out in written word.
The Journey
The day we got home from the hospital, I felt 100% worthless. I could barely get up out of a chair & I had to rely on T to do everything. While he frantically (and heroically) conquered all that needed to be done to get us settled, I sat there on the verge of tears wondering how this was going to work. My body felt foreign. Our house didn’t quite feel like home again yet. I was still overwhelmed with the entire experience that happened so quickly. My memory was blurry. I was still trying to piece everything together & come to terms with the chaotic past four days. Plus, we had a tiny human waiting to be taken out of the carseat and settled in somewhere.
Recovering from my c-section was quite humbling, to say the least.
I get weak in the knees thinking about surgery, so I didn’t have the guts to even look at my incision for a good 2 weeks. Weight restriction of less than 10 pounds meant I couldn’t carry E in his carseat for 6 weeks. Laughing and sneezing made my abdomen scream. Forget about climbing stairs. I needed help with mostly everything. And not only were we already tired from being up all hours of the night, but the littlest amount of activity filled my body and mind with intense fatigue. Yes, I burst into tears multiple times.
You don’t know until you know. There’s an internal struggle of making yourself a priority after that little face stares back at you. But I kept telling myself if I didn’t take care of me, I wouldn’t be able to take care of E. After the first couple weeks flew by, I began doing one thing for myself while he napped. A shower, putting make up on, getting dressed or light cleaning around the house. I would make sure to flood our house with natural light. Or get outside if the weather allowed. This helped cure a mild case of cabin fever that began creeping in.
Those first few weeks at home are simply hard.
They just are. I had a few friends prep me for those feelings of defeat, but mostly, I feel people avoid the topic. The days are long & sometimes isolating. It’s easy to feel lonely & overwhelmed all at the same time. To me, everything was conflicting. You want help, but you don’t want help. Company was great, but also exhausting. You love this little human more than words can express, but it’s also frustrating. What I would tell any expecting parents is… give it time. Eventually, things get easier, you start to feel human again and honestly, you start to forget about those tumultuous days. It’s true.
As the weeks kept zooming by, the light at the end of the tunnel kept getting bigger.
Between all that pain, mental & physical struggle and raging hormones, there were all the moments of joy. The amount of gratitude I have for T had never been higher. I realized how much I could love that man for literally being my savior through it all. And of course, the amount of love for this new life we brought into the world. Emmett is the biggest blessing & even the toughest nights don’t overshadow that.
Now I’m feeling those precious moments slip in and out so quickly.
It’s a crazy feeling, watching a little human grow. So much pride in seeing them reach milestones, but also sadness in every passing day that they’ll never be quite this little ever again. I’m wishing the intangible could be bottled up and kept. Like the way he feels laying on my chest or how bright his eyes are in the morning. There’s just too much in each passing second that soaking up sweet moments becomes impossible. Even if you try, try, try. Because trust me, I have.
Emmett will officially be 3 months old on Friday. Which blows my mind. I’ve got to the point where I wish time would freeze. Just for a little while.
Is it too much to ask?
xoxo. B
