I couldn't write a blog about motherhood without talking about "mommy wars." I became familiar with this term (rather abruptly) when I became a mom. Perhaps I had heard it when I was pregnant, but I didn't really have a sense of what it meant until after I had a baby. What is this phenomenon? Most people use the term to refer to the tension between two groups of moms: stay-at-home moms (SAHMs) and working moms. I have come to learn that Mommy Wars is so much more than that, though.
Mommy wars is SAHMs vs. working moms, formula versus breastfeeding, daycare versus nannies, "no-cry" sleep solutions versus "Ferberizing" (or insert other parenting techniques here)...need I go on? Pretty much anything about which parents have to make a decision in their role as parents sparks mommy wars all over the place.
Why do we need to criticize one another about one more thing? Don't we
spend enough time judging other women by their clothes, social status,
level of education, size, shape, face, partner (or lack thereof),
etc.? Why can't we all just support one another? In my opinion, it all
stems from an urge to justify the choices that we make for
ourselves (and our families). We want to be the best parents we can be.
So, as parents, maybe we want to
convince ourselves that everything we choose to do is the best thing for kids, in general. To convince ourselves, maybe we have to convince everybody
else too. So, if what I'm doing is the "best" thing, that must mean
that anything other people are doing differently is wrong.
Societal pressures also play a major role. In our "melting pot" of a
society here in the U.S., there truly is no one "right" way. That
sounds great at first, but, rather than creating an environment in which
all choices are supported, it feels more like there are many "right"
ways and many "wrong" ways in the eyes of those around us. Some people
still believe in the more traditional family roles, in which mother
stays home with the children and father goes out into the world to be
the breadwinner. There are others
who believe that women absolutely should work, just as
their partners do, and they may criticize mothers who choose to (or
must, for whatever reason) stay home with their child or children. It
almost seems as though one cannot win. I should also comment that men are facing the same types of pressures/criticisms these days, and the same issues can apply whether we are talking about same-sex or opposite-sex couples with kids, though I won't delve into those issues in this blog entry.
When I initially returned to work after my scheduled maternity leave, I had a
patient who asked me if I had children. I try not to reveal too much
about my personal life to my patients. You don't want to be too closed
off (we're all human, after all), but too much self-disclosure is never a
good thing, for many reasons. I told her I did, and she kept asking
questions. After she asked me how old my little one was, and I told her
she was nearly 3 months old, she said "Wow, that's pretty young...to be
away from her mom." I felt like crying. I just smiled and said "I
know." I don't think she meant to come across as judgmental (and, even if she had, her active mental illness would have excused any malicious intent, in my mind) but it
about broke my heart. I already felt broken emotionally when the long
work hours took me away from my tiny baby so early on. I had told
myself "Lots of people go back to work. It's fine. You need to work."
And, in truth, I did, and I do need to work. Not just for financial
reasons. I don't feel that leaving my job at this time is an option. I
won't go into that further. But I'll just say that all it took was one person
reminding me of what I really felt inside to make my resolve crumble.
If I had felt defensive, instead of sad at that
moment, perhaps I would have felt the need to explain to her why I could
not be at home with my daughter at that moment. After all, who would
be taking care of her, as a patient, if I were? Surely, she would
understand. Or maybe she wouldn't. But I shouldn't have to explain.
A few weeks later, I ended up taking extended leave from my job, not for that reason, but
because of other things that were happening that actually made it very
difficult (maybe impossible) for me to do my job, or at least do it
safely. In a way, I felt fortunate that I got to stay home with my
daughter longer, though I have been wracked with guilt about taking more
time away from work as well. It seems I could not have avoided guilt,
no matter what happened. At work, I felt guilty for not being with my
daughter. When I took time away from work (especially since it was more than what's "typical" for other people in my field who have kids), I feel guilty about that
too. That guilt comes from feeling like there is something wrong with me if I'm not able to balance my family life and my job, as it seems so many others do. No one said a negative word about it. In fact, people were extremely supportive. In my own head, though, I wondered if they were judging me for being...well, the word that comes to my mind is "weak."
In the end, it truly was my choice to take more time away from work. No one was forcing me to do it. I know I made the right decision because I wasn't at 100% (or anywhere close), and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd made mistakes at work as a result. When you are dealing with patient care, you don't want to be really off your game, as I felt I was. We are talking about the health and well-being of patients, who trust you, as a doctor, to care for them. Right or not in a moral sense, I felt silently judged, even if it was just the voice in my head that was judging me. That voice represented something that I had been taught, not something innate. It was about societal expectations.
I'll never forget the conversation I had with a family member about this
situation. I think she was both trying to support my decision to
return to work after this extended leave and also help relieve my guilt about having
to take the extra time away from work. For the record, she is a SAHM but has
a J.D. and previously worked as an attorney. She said "Some people say
to me 'Why have all these degrees if you're just going to stay home
with your kids?,' and I see their point, but at the same time I think
'Why have kids if I'm not going to be here to raise them myself?'" She
told me it's not about right or wrong. You can work and not feel guilty
about it. You can have your career and kids too. Or you can choose to
stay home with your kids. It's about what works for you and your
family right now. What works now may also change with time, and some
may choose to stay home with their kids until they are a certain age and
then start working or return to work. I can't say I agree with
everything this family member has ever said in the long time I've known
her, but I think she was right on about this, and I continue to turn to
her for support in my new role as a mom with a continuing career.
We make choices to do things differently from others we know because we
know ourselves and what works for us, or sometimes we have life
situations about which others aren't aware that force us to return to
work or take more time away from work. I think every parent should be
applauded for the choices he or she makes. It isn't just about work.
It's about all the little choices we make every day to try to keep
ourselves and our families happy and healthy. It's about
standing by those choices in a society that seems to condemn you either way. And
sometimes you do feel like you have to "side" with one camp or the
other to make yourself feel good about your choices. But I believe we
have to support each other to make it all more manageable for the
parents out there. Balancing family life and everything else that
today's society demands of us is hard, and we heap guilt on ourselves
enough as it is. The last thing we need is someone else looking in from
the outside and telling us what we're doing wrong.
If the culture could be one of mutual support for different choices and
different lifestyles, we could end mommy wars. We could start to form
the groundwork for a culture of women supporting women. This includes
women who don't have children too. I won't even go into the issue of
choosing to have children versus choosing not to (and, believe me, there
is criticism on both sides of this as well). It's not about
having a "Kumbayah" moment. It's just about looking at the women around
you and appreciating them for what they are and what they contribute to
your life and to society. To all the SAHMs out there, I appreciate and
admire everything you do. I feel the same about all the working moms I
know, whether they work part-time or full-time. To the women I know who
don't have children yet but hope to, I'm here to welcome you to the
world of motherhood if and when it happens. To the women I know who
don't have children and never will, I support your choice. We're really
all in the same boat here. We all have our own priorities. I much
prefer that women aren't pigeon-holed into a single role in a society
anymore. There are a lot of options available to us, and I support all
those options. That's really what freedom is all about, isn't it?
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Thursday, August 2, 2012
The Aftermath Part II
Beyond the physical issues, emotions were running high. This
happens to new moms anyway, but I had a little extra drama to go along
with it.
The day after my C section, I received an email from a close family member, whom I'll call Jane. Basically, the email said that she and her husband were upset about the way they "were treated" by my husband when they had come to see me on the day of the delivery. It said a lot of other things that I've already forgotten because I chose to. It was mean. It was rude. It was insensitive. It was way out of line. She has actually become notorious for sending such nastygrams to many people, so I guess I shouldn't consider myself special. It was the fact that she sent it to me the DAY AFTER I became a mom for the first time. When I was in the hospital, recovering from a long, emotionally and physically taxing labor and from a C section after that, adjusting to being a new parent, feeling the rush of hormones and emotions that follow delivery, in pain, not sleeping, and feeling vulnerable. It was the most vulnerable I have ever been. She kicked me when I was down.
She has a kid herself. She should know what it is like. She was too busy thinking about dumping her anger on someone else to think about it. Or worse, she thought about it but chose not to care. Oh, and I forgot to mention that she didn't just send it to me. She cc'ed all of my immediate family on it, effectively announcing to everyone what she thought of my husband (and me, by proxy). Nobody else responded to the email, and that had me wondering if they were all thinking the same thing (but perhaps had the class not to say anything at the moment, unlike Jane herself). I worried that I had hurt the rest of my family. But, otherwise, all I could think when I read it was that Jane was a bitch. A selfish, egocentric bitch. I did feel bad about my family having to stay in the waiting room instead of being welcomed into the room while I was laboring, but this is not a rare occurrence. Couples decide to keep family out of the room until the baby is born all the time. Plus, I would argue that many (maybe the majority of?) people who go to the hospital awaiting the birth of a family member do not expect to be in the delivery room during the labor and pushing. What, are you going to come in and stare at "the business end" of things? Or just watch in horror as I struggle? I don't know. Some people choose to invite their entire families into the room for the labor and delivery. To us, it was logical for it to be just me and my husband. To me, it makes sense to wait to be invited into the room after the baby is born. To be fair, I also have no idea exactly what conversations were exchanged between her and my husband in the waiting room. I was a little busy. Maybe he was short with her. Maybe he's not the best communicator, especially when under stress. But she could have had a little understanding. And if you're showing up to be supportive, you should be that.
It's worth mentioning that she had chosen to come when Everett informed her I was in labor. I didn't request her presence. It is a 2.5-hour drive. So I thought it was nice that she wanted to come and certainly didn't tell her otherwise, as I wanted her to feel welcome to be part of things (to the degree to which we were comfortable with others' involvement). When they had called asking about things and said they were coming, we also asked them to come that afternoon, not right away, since I had just started pushing. We did that intentionally, thinking they wouldn't have to sit in the waiting room when they arrived that way. How were we to know the timing wouldn't work out like we thought it would? Sorry, I didn't know I would be pushing for 5 hours. I genuinely (and reasonably) thought the baby would be out by the time you arrived, so you wouldn't have to wait. My bad. So inconvenient for you.
If someone close to me has an issue with me, I definitely want to talk to them about it so we can sort it out. The manner in which the message was delivered, however, and, more importantly, the timing of it, were absurd. I felt no sympathy for her. I felt some guilt, but that was because I felt guilt over a lot of things in my state of "baby blues." But I mostly felt angry. What I wanted to tell her was that she had a big chip on her shoulder and that she shouldn't take things so personally because not everything is about her. I wanted to say that she was a selfish, self-centered asshole. I wanted to tell her that I was shocked that she would burden me with all her negativity during this very sensitive time in my life. I wanted to tell her to f- off and never talk to me again. Ever the diplomat, and too worn down to fight any battles anyway, I instead apologized for any hurt feelings and tried to explain our decision to keep everyone else out of the delivery room. This was met with a brief, seemingly dismissive response that demonstrated a total lack of understanding and a clear lack of acceptance of my apology. Something like "I've already moved and given you the information I felt you needed to know." After that, Everett called her personally to apologize, and she seemed accepting of that and even left me a message telling me she really admired and respected my husband for taking the time to apologize personally to her.
So I thought it was over, which was a bit of a relief, but it still left a very bad taste in my mouth. Rather than feeling love and support from my family, I felt isolated from them. (It later turned out the rest were just staying out of it). I felt blamed for something that I didn't think was really my fault. I felt betrayed by her. I felt defensive of my husband who had only been trying to do what we had planned and what we had agreed was best to protect ourselves. I felt disappointed in the rest of my family for their silence and feared they were angry with me too. It gave me this horrible sick feeling in my stomach. I felt heartsick, like I had lost something very dear. I was sad and cried a lot those first few weeks, and, most of the time, it was when I was thinking about her and the things she had said and done and thinking about how I wanted to talk to someone but feeling like I couldn't call my family.
It was made worse less than a week later when she sent me another nasty email accusing me of posting something negative about her (and the rest of my family) on Facebook. This was full of even more insults. She said something about how she thought we had resolved the issue and felt like she "got played" when she heard about this Facebook posting. I didn't even read her whole email. I read the first 2 sentences and realized what it was, so I decided not to continue. I had no idea what she was talking about, for one. I later discovered it was regarding some vague status update I'd posted about how I'd found that other people were trying to compare their birth experiences to mine without really knowing what I went through. I can't see how this could have had anything to do with my family, since I had exactly zero conversations with any of them about my birth experience. Secondly, I was pretty much outraged that she continued to bombard me with her paranoid bullshit while I was still recovering and trying to adjust to my new life.
I called her immediately. This time I was not so nice about it. I gave her a piece of my mind and told her she was borderline delusional for thinking anything I posted on Facebook was about her. Again, does she think everything in the world is about her? She confessed that her husband and her brother-in-law had seen my vague status update and told her it was about her and the rest of my family, and she believed them. She even admitted she didn't even look at it herself! She had just taken their word for it AND told my other family members about it, basically trying to convince them that I had turned against them and was bad-mouthing them online. I advised her to look at it herself so she would realize there was no way she could construe that to be about her or anyone in our family. I had no idea why her brother-in-law was meddling in our business either, but that was another point entirely. And what kind of man is your husband anyway? A high-school girl? What grown man goes on Facebook, reads status updates and gets angry because he thinks they are about him? Further, what kind of man tries to stir up more drama between family members? She apologized for misinterpreting and blowing things out of proportion. She did seem very sorry. I told her it was fine but said she should just call me and ASK me what was going on if she was concerned about something, instead of making assumptions about things and writing these mean emails.
Things were smoothed over. I'm great at smoothing things over. Throughout all of this, I never called her names. I never called her out for being the very opposite of supportive to me when I needed support the most. I did my best to take the high road. I could not truly forgive her, however. I don't have the time or energy to continue thinking about it all the time, but I will never forget what she did in those days after our first baby was born. Though I don't remember the exact words she wrote or said, I will never forget the way she made me feel. She managed to further poison an event in our lives that was already very difficult and painful. She managed to bring more anger and sadness into a time in our lives that was supposed to be joyful. Maybe it was jealousy or insecurity. I'll never know. She acts like it never happened and tries to continue our relationship as usual, but I know it has changed our relationship forever. I don't easily write people off, especially family. I try to be understanding of what other people are going through and to forgive when people make mistakes. Yet, there are things you can do or say to others that you can never take back. I lost all respect for her, and I don't think she'll be able to earn it back, especially after all the things she has said and done to other family members since then. As I said earlier, she has gone on to make accusations toward other family members and create a lot of other drama that has nothing to do with me (Thank God), with no shortage of nasty emails that have been shared with many parties. Interestingly, her husband is intimately involved in these conflicts as well. I think it really says something about both of them. All I can say is that I'm glad I have good, supportive people in my life, and it's a shame I can't count on her to be one of them. Further, I never received any kind of apology from her husband, or any acknowledgement of his role in the whole thing, and, truthfully, I'd be happiest if I never had to see him again. I think I never really saw his true colors until this.
She may read this someday, but I actually hope she doesn't. I'm certainly not going to make her aware of this blog or make it easy for her to come across it. I didn't write these words to hurt her. I wrote them to try to heal myself. That's why I never said them to her (and never will). But I had to say them, somewhere and somehow. And this is the most cathartic way for me to say them. Maybe I should wait until the day after she has her next baby and send her an email telling her what I really think of her and her husband. No, wait, I wouldn't do that. I'm better than that. I realize that now I really am bad-mouthing her online. Oh, the irony. But all I'm doing is telling the truth.
So that's just one thing I was dealing with in the first week after becoming a mom, as though there isn't enough "normal" stuff to deal with in the first weeks after bringing home your newborn. My family member's words and behavior, unfortunately, had a great impact and really stand out in my memory of this time period. I think it was actually the single most difficult part of this period of my life, when all my energy should have been focused on my baby and my new family. I hope the impact she had will change with time. I hope to forget all of that. It's not worth remembering. The only thing worth remembering from the experience is that I shouldn't trust her or turn to her for support in the future. I admit I should have learned that years ago, knowing what I know about Jane, but it took something this upsetting to open my eyes.
Everything else was sort of a blur. A blur of falling asleep and waking up, changing diapers, wiping up spit-up, feeding (and cringing at the pain from that), pumping, crying, eating, and hurting. But also loving. A lot of loving. I do remember all the tender moments holding my beautiful baby and feeling her warm little body against me as she nursed. I remember watching her face and marveling at all the facial expressions she made, holding her tiny fingers and thinking about how cute they were, seeing her stretch and make little sound in her sleep, kissing her head and smelling her sweet baby smell.
So much happiness. Mixed with hurt, anger, guilt, sadness and disappointment. It's no wonder I felt so emotionally drained and unstable. It didn't get better either. At 6 weeks, I decided I needed help. I really thought I was outside the range of the "baby blues" phenomenon, but I still felt depressed. I desperately needed to talk about everything that had happened in a space where I felt safe. I needed someone to listen with empathy and not judge, to validate my feelings without trying to give advice. Though it made me feel ashamed and the last thing I wanted to do was admit it was real by seeking help, I knew I had to get better, for the sake of my daughter. I sought out a therapist. It was a great decision.
That's enough for today.
The day after my C section, I received an email from a close family member, whom I'll call Jane. Basically, the email said that she and her husband were upset about the way they "were treated" by my husband when they had come to see me on the day of the delivery. It said a lot of other things that I've already forgotten because I chose to. It was mean. It was rude. It was insensitive. It was way out of line. She has actually become notorious for sending such nastygrams to many people, so I guess I shouldn't consider myself special. It was the fact that she sent it to me the DAY AFTER I became a mom for the first time. When I was in the hospital, recovering from a long, emotionally and physically taxing labor and from a C section after that, adjusting to being a new parent, feeling the rush of hormones and emotions that follow delivery, in pain, not sleeping, and feeling vulnerable. It was the most vulnerable I have ever been. She kicked me when I was down.
She has a kid herself. She should know what it is like. She was too busy thinking about dumping her anger on someone else to think about it. Or worse, she thought about it but chose not to care. Oh, and I forgot to mention that she didn't just send it to me. She cc'ed all of my immediate family on it, effectively announcing to everyone what she thought of my husband (and me, by proxy). Nobody else responded to the email, and that had me wondering if they were all thinking the same thing (but perhaps had the class not to say anything at the moment, unlike Jane herself). I worried that I had hurt the rest of my family. But, otherwise, all I could think when I read it was that Jane was a bitch. A selfish, egocentric bitch. I did feel bad about my family having to stay in the waiting room instead of being welcomed into the room while I was laboring, but this is not a rare occurrence. Couples decide to keep family out of the room until the baby is born all the time. Plus, I would argue that many (maybe the majority of?) people who go to the hospital awaiting the birth of a family member do not expect to be in the delivery room during the labor and pushing. What, are you going to come in and stare at "the business end" of things? Or just watch in horror as I struggle? I don't know. Some people choose to invite their entire families into the room for the labor and delivery. To us, it was logical for it to be just me and my husband. To me, it makes sense to wait to be invited into the room after the baby is born. To be fair, I also have no idea exactly what conversations were exchanged between her and my husband in the waiting room. I was a little busy. Maybe he was short with her. Maybe he's not the best communicator, especially when under stress. But she could have had a little understanding. And if you're showing up to be supportive, you should be that.
It's worth mentioning that she had chosen to come when Everett informed her I was in labor. I didn't request her presence. It is a 2.5-hour drive. So I thought it was nice that she wanted to come and certainly didn't tell her otherwise, as I wanted her to feel welcome to be part of things (to the degree to which we were comfortable with others' involvement). When they had called asking about things and said they were coming, we also asked them to come that afternoon, not right away, since I had just started pushing. We did that intentionally, thinking they wouldn't have to sit in the waiting room when they arrived that way. How were we to know the timing wouldn't work out like we thought it would? Sorry, I didn't know I would be pushing for 5 hours. I genuinely (and reasonably) thought the baby would be out by the time you arrived, so you wouldn't have to wait. My bad. So inconvenient for you.
If someone close to me has an issue with me, I definitely want to talk to them about it so we can sort it out. The manner in which the message was delivered, however, and, more importantly, the timing of it, were absurd. I felt no sympathy for her. I felt some guilt, but that was because I felt guilt over a lot of things in my state of "baby blues." But I mostly felt angry. What I wanted to tell her was that she had a big chip on her shoulder and that she shouldn't take things so personally because not everything is about her. I wanted to say that she was a selfish, self-centered asshole. I wanted to tell her that I was shocked that she would burden me with all her negativity during this very sensitive time in my life. I wanted to tell her to f- off and never talk to me again. Ever the diplomat, and too worn down to fight any battles anyway, I instead apologized for any hurt feelings and tried to explain our decision to keep everyone else out of the delivery room. This was met with a brief, seemingly dismissive response that demonstrated a total lack of understanding and a clear lack of acceptance of my apology. Something like "I've already moved and given you the information I felt you needed to know." After that, Everett called her personally to apologize, and she seemed accepting of that and even left me a message telling me she really admired and respected my husband for taking the time to apologize personally to her.
So I thought it was over, which was a bit of a relief, but it still left a very bad taste in my mouth. Rather than feeling love and support from my family, I felt isolated from them. (It later turned out the rest were just staying out of it). I felt blamed for something that I didn't think was really my fault. I felt betrayed by her. I felt defensive of my husband who had only been trying to do what we had planned and what we had agreed was best to protect ourselves. I felt disappointed in the rest of my family for their silence and feared they were angry with me too. It gave me this horrible sick feeling in my stomach. I felt heartsick, like I had lost something very dear. I was sad and cried a lot those first few weeks, and, most of the time, it was when I was thinking about her and the things she had said and done and thinking about how I wanted to talk to someone but feeling like I couldn't call my family.
It was made worse less than a week later when she sent me another nasty email accusing me of posting something negative about her (and the rest of my family) on Facebook. This was full of even more insults. She said something about how she thought we had resolved the issue and felt like she "got played" when she heard about this Facebook posting. I didn't even read her whole email. I read the first 2 sentences and realized what it was, so I decided not to continue. I had no idea what she was talking about, for one. I later discovered it was regarding some vague status update I'd posted about how I'd found that other people were trying to compare their birth experiences to mine without really knowing what I went through. I can't see how this could have had anything to do with my family, since I had exactly zero conversations with any of them about my birth experience. Secondly, I was pretty much outraged that she continued to bombard me with her paranoid bullshit while I was still recovering and trying to adjust to my new life.
I called her immediately. This time I was not so nice about it. I gave her a piece of my mind and told her she was borderline delusional for thinking anything I posted on Facebook was about her. Again, does she think everything in the world is about her? She confessed that her husband and her brother-in-law had seen my vague status update and told her it was about her and the rest of my family, and she believed them. She even admitted she didn't even look at it herself! She had just taken their word for it AND told my other family members about it, basically trying to convince them that I had turned against them and was bad-mouthing them online. I advised her to look at it herself so she would realize there was no way she could construe that to be about her or anyone in our family. I had no idea why her brother-in-law was meddling in our business either, but that was another point entirely. And what kind of man is your husband anyway? A high-school girl? What grown man goes on Facebook, reads status updates and gets angry because he thinks they are about him? Further, what kind of man tries to stir up more drama between family members? She apologized for misinterpreting and blowing things out of proportion. She did seem very sorry. I told her it was fine but said she should just call me and ASK me what was going on if she was concerned about something, instead of making assumptions about things and writing these mean emails.
Things were smoothed over. I'm great at smoothing things over. Throughout all of this, I never called her names. I never called her out for being the very opposite of supportive to me when I needed support the most. I did my best to take the high road. I could not truly forgive her, however. I don't have the time or energy to continue thinking about it all the time, but I will never forget what she did in those days after our first baby was born. Though I don't remember the exact words she wrote or said, I will never forget the way she made me feel. She managed to further poison an event in our lives that was already very difficult and painful. She managed to bring more anger and sadness into a time in our lives that was supposed to be joyful. Maybe it was jealousy or insecurity. I'll never know. She acts like it never happened and tries to continue our relationship as usual, but I know it has changed our relationship forever. I don't easily write people off, especially family. I try to be understanding of what other people are going through and to forgive when people make mistakes. Yet, there are things you can do or say to others that you can never take back. I lost all respect for her, and I don't think she'll be able to earn it back, especially after all the things she has said and done to other family members since then. As I said earlier, she has gone on to make accusations toward other family members and create a lot of other drama that has nothing to do with me (Thank God), with no shortage of nasty emails that have been shared with many parties. Interestingly, her husband is intimately involved in these conflicts as well. I think it really says something about both of them. All I can say is that I'm glad I have good, supportive people in my life, and it's a shame I can't count on her to be one of them. Further, I never received any kind of apology from her husband, or any acknowledgement of his role in the whole thing, and, truthfully, I'd be happiest if I never had to see him again. I think I never really saw his true colors until this.
She may read this someday, but I actually hope she doesn't. I'm certainly not going to make her aware of this blog or make it easy for her to come across it. I didn't write these words to hurt her. I wrote them to try to heal myself. That's why I never said them to her (and never will). But I had to say them, somewhere and somehow. And this is the most cathartic way for me to say them. Maybe I should wait until the day after she has her next baby and send her an email telling her what I really think of her and her husband. No, wait, I wouldn't do that. I'm better than that. I realize that now I really am bad-mouthing her online. Oh, the irony. But all I'm doing is telling the truth.
So that's just one thing I was dealing with in the first week after becoming a mom, as though there isn't enough "normal" stuff to deal with in the first weeks after bringing home your newborn. My family member's words and behavior, unfortunately, had a great impact and really stand out in my memory of this time period. I think it was actually the single most difficult part of this period of my life, when all my energy should have been focused on my baby and my new family. I hope the impact she had will change with time. I hope to forget all of that. It's not worth remembering. The only thing worth remembering from the experience is that I shouldn't trust her or turn to her for support in the future. I admit I should have learned that years ago, knowing what I know about Jane, but it took something this upsetting to open my eyes.
Everything else was sort of a blur. A blur of falling asleep and waking up, changing diapers, wiping up spit-up, feeding (and cringing at the pain from that), pumping, crying, eating, and hurting. But also loving. A lot of loving. I do remember all the tender moments holding my beautiful baby and feeling her warm little body against me as she nursed. I remember watching her face and marveling at all the facial expressions she made, holding her tiny fingers and thinking about how cute they were, seeing her stretch and make little sound in her sleep, kissing her head and smelling her sweet baby smell.
So much happiness. Mixed with hurt, anger, guilt, sadness and disappointment. It's no wonder I felt so emotionally drained and unstable. It didn't get better either. At 6 weeks, I decided I needed help. I really thought I was outside the range of the "baby blues" phenomenon, but I still felt depressed. I desperately needed to talk about everything that had happened in a space where I felt safe. I needed someone to listen with empathy and not judge, to validate my feelings without trying to give advice. Though it made me feel ashamed and the last thing I wanted to do was admit it was real by seeking help, I knew I had to get better, for the sake of my daughter. I sought out a therapist. It was a great decision.
That's enough for today.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
The Aftermath Part I
The hours and days following the birth were challenging. A few hours after the C section, having held and nursed my baby and sent her off to dreamland, all I really wanted was to take a shower. I
hadn't, in fact, taken one in almost 48 hours, and I had really exerted
myself for hours pushing. Plus, everything had been so...bloody. I
felt disgusting. They told me I couldn't shower until the next day. I
secretly plotted to at least sponge bathe myself in the bathroom when
the nursing staff weren't around, whether they liked it or not. I later
realized I couldn't even get up. My legs were still numb until sometime during the night. I was still bleeding a lot too.
Everett and I allowed the nursing staff to take Corinne to the newborn nursery so we could get a little more sleep that first night. They agreed to bring her in to our room for feedings. This is a hospital that supports "rooming-in," so that the baby can have unrestricted access to the breast for feeding. It didn't really seem like she spent much time in the nursery. We were awakened repeatedly by Corinne crying. I don't know how many times it was. I just know I was exhausted and didn't get much sleep. Everett stayed in the hospital room with me at night (and pretty much all the time) and got up with me every time the baby woke up, which I really appreciated. I was glad that the nursing staff were changing diapers and otherwise helping to take care of her but bringing her in for me to feed her. I later discovered that she had received some supplementary formula feeds in the nursery without my permission. I didn't make an issue out of it. I'm sure they thought they were helping by letting us sleep a little more. But I knew I needed her to nurse as much as possible to get my supply going, especially having had a C section. I asked the nursing staff for a breast pump and parts and started pumping to try to stimulate supply another way. We did end up giving her some supplementary feedings ourselves because my milk was a little slow to come in, likely because I had had a C section (another thing I had feared about this particular medical intervention). We did "finger feeding" with a syringe so she wouldn't get "nipple confusion" because I was very dedicated to succeeding at breastfeeding, which is a huge feat in itself. Perhaps I'll write more about that later, as it has been such a big part of my journey as a new mother.
I was in a lot more pain than I had thought I would be. It wasn't just my incision (though that was definitely the worst part). My body was sore all over. It was like I had suddenly done a CrossFit workout after months without exercise. I realized it was from all the weird positions I had been in, the repetitive rocking, and especially the pushing. I wished aloud that we hadn't had to go through all that and then have a C section anyway. Not that wishing could change anything.
Little Corinne's sore head was managed with some baby Tylenol, per the pediatric team. It did seem to help. The pediatric team also diagnosed her with a medical condition the day after her birth. In the interest of protecting her privacy, I don't want to disclose what that was. It wouldn't fall under the category of "minor," but it certainly was not life-threatening either. It was something that required treatment, a treatment that made our lives that much more interesting (as though new parents don't already have enough to deal with) on a daily basis for the first six weeks of her life. It involved a lot of doctor's appointments and the like. It resolved, though, with strict adherence to the treatment plan.
When she was diagnosed, Everett and I already felt so..raw...emotionally. Hearing this diagnosis made us feel even more hurt and sad. They reassured us that she did not feel any pain or discomfort from it. It hurt us, though, to know she had a medical problem that would have to be treated, and it was hard not to think there was something we could have done to prevent it (there was not) or something we did to cause it (again, there was not). It's just something that happens, not uncommonly in newborn babies, and it's not life-threatening or even "serious" by most definitions of the word, but it can cause some problems (which I would definitely call minor problems) later in life if it's not treated. In fact, it used to go undiagnosed and its frequency has only been recognized in recent years, and it's probably a good thing that it gets diagnosed early and treated so it doesn't cause problems later in life. However, a lot of people probably never even find out they have it, if it wasn't diagnosed in childhood. The initial treatment, when it is diagnosed at birth, is very non-invasive and does not involve any medications or surgical procedures. Sorry to be cryptic, but I just don't want to be posting all the details of her medical history all over the internet. For anyone who wants to talk with me privately about it, I am open to telling you more.
I did feel protective of her and really didn't want anyone except immediate family to know about it. I didn't want anyone to think there was anything "wrong" with our baby. Another mom whose baby had the same problem saw some of the things I had posted on Facebook and sent me a message asking about it (it's really something only someone who has experienced it would have recognized or noticed). We exchanged some messages about our experiences. I was actually so relieved to know someone else was dealing with the same problem. It made me realize how common it really is. It also helped to be able to talk about it, especially to someone who knew what it was and what it was like to deal with it...and who knew it wasn't our "fault."
In the end, we were actually lucky. Lucky that it was diagnosed early, and lucky that it improved so quickly with the early conservative measures. It could have gone undiagnosed, in which case it might have required more aggressive management in the future. Or it could have improved slowly (as it does for many babies) and required much longer treatment. She will continue to see a specialist just a couple times during her infancy and early toddler years to make sure things remain good, but it looks as though it's over and done with now.
We dealt with a few other medical problems in the first 2 months of her life, the details of which I will spare you. I would definitely label those as "minor," though minor doesn't mean they don't have a big impact on day-to-day life. It was no picnic. She had 2 ER visits before she was 6 weeks old. Sitting in the ER waiting room for hours with a several-week-old baby (and having to breastfeed there) is not my favorite thing in the world. It's really not the best place to bring a newborn, given the potential for exposure to infectious illnesses. The good thing is that all the issues were addressed. Just not without a lot of time, energy, and heartache on our part. I don't really think Corinne was too bothered by any of it. It was mostly hard on mom and dad!
Anyway, I fared ok myself. They told me my hematocrit (blood count) was 27 (quite low) the day following the C section. At my last doctor's appointment before the delivery, my hematocrit had been 39 (very good). I had never been anemic, even though most people experience some anemia during pregnancy. They put me on an iron supplement (ugh, like I need more nausea and constipation right now). I refused the Percocet they prescribed (pretty typical post-C section) after the first 24 hours because it just made me feel drowsy and gave me a headache, and it didn't seem to help much with my pain anyway. I stuck to ibuprofen, which seemed to give me the most relief. I took regular Tylenol for additional pain relief.
I was surprised by how limited I felt. Even with the adjustable bed in the hospital room, getting up to get to the baby was so painful. It seemed I had to move slowly and delicately no matter what I was doing to try to avoid a lot of pain. Coughing and sneezing were the absolute worst. If you ever wondered how much you use your abdominal muscles to do those things, you definitely find out after a C section. Every time I had to cough or sneeze (or laugh hard, which I really didn't do very often those first couple of months), it brought tears to my eyes (for weeks afterward). My body was incredibly swollen, which I hadn't expected. I had only mild edema during the pregnancy; it had been hardly noticeable. During the first week after delivery, my legs were so swollen that they looked like tree trunks. I couldn't squeeze my feet into my shoes. Everything else swelled too, including my abdomen, my hands, my cheeks and eyelids. It was bizarre (but apparently normal). I felt enormous. I will say that my first shower (the next morning) was so nice. I had a hearty appetite and ate well, even though the hospital food was less than great. I was having sweats and chills, mostly at night. Nursing staff told me it was just hormones. The docs were more concerned about infection, since we had labored so long before going to surgery. They kept us in the hospital 2 nights for that reason, though 2 nights is actually typical for post-C section.
A week after the delivery, once the swelling fully subsided, I was 20 pounds (which was probably just fluid, baby and associated things like the placenta) lighter than I had been at my last Ob appointment.
Breastfeeding was painful at first, and it remained painful for weeks. I don't care what anyone says; this is NORMAL! You're just not accustomed to having your nipples "used" in this way for hours a day, and it hurts at first. Our little one had a great latch and was a good feeder. It just took some getting used to, from my end of things.
Sleep...well, need I even mention sleep? You don't do it when you have a new baby. That's normal too. We had sleep problems beyond what was typical down the road, which I may describe more in future posts. But nobody sleeps very much those first 2 months at least. So we were tired. No big surprise there.
It took me at least 3 weeks to start to feel remotely better physically, but the pain persisted long after that. It was around 6 weeks that I started to feel able to do things like take little walk around the block with the stroller. Heck, I still have pain around my incision sometimes, and it has been more than 5 months.
I hadn't anticipated all the different kinds of physical discomfort I would have, and I knew there would be "baby blues," but I really hadn't really anticipated feeling the way I did emotionally, which was made about 100 times worse by some family drama. I'll talk about this more in my next post.
We made it through, but I'm not planning on reliving those first weeks with a new baby any time soon, and, I don't want to set myself up for disappointment, but I hope I never have to have a C section again.
Everett and I allowed the nursing staff to take Corinne to the newborn nursery so we could get a little more sleep that first night. They agreed to bring her in to our room for feedings. This is a hospital that supports "rooming-in," so that the baby can have unrestricted access to the breast for feeding. It didn't really seem like she spent much time in the nursery. We were awakened repeatedly by Corinne crying. I don't know how many times it was. I just know I was exhausted and didn't get much sleep. Everett stayed in the hospital room with me at night (and pretty much all the time) and got up with me every time the baby woke up, which I really appreciated. I was glad that the nursing staff were changing diapers and otherwise helping to take care of her but bringing her in for me to feed her. I later discovered that she had received some supplementary formula feeds in the nursery without my permission. I didn't make an issue out of it. I'm sure they thought they were helping by letting us sleep a little more. But I knew I needed her to nurse as much as possible to get my supply going, especially having had a C section. I asked the nursing staff for a breast pump and parts and started pumping to try to stimulate supply another way. We did end up giving her some supplementary feedings ourselves because my milk was a little slow to come in, likely because I had had a C section (another thing I had feared about this particular medical intervention). We did "finger feeding" with a syringe so she wouldn't get "nipple confusion" because I was very dedicated to succeeding at breastfeeding, which is a huge feat in itself. Perhaps I'll write more about that later, as it has been such a big part of my journey as a new mother.
I was in a lot more pain than I had thought I would be. It wasn't just my incision (though that was definitely the worst part). My body was sore all over. It was like I had suddenly done a CrossFit workout after months without exercise. I realized it was from all the weird positions I had been in, the repetitive rocking, and especially the pushing. I wished aloud that we hadn't had to go through all that and then have a C section anyway. Not that wishing could change anything.
Little Corinne's sore head was managed with some baby Tylenol, per the pediatric team. It did seem to help. The pediatric team also diagnosed her with a medical condition the day after her birth. In the interest of protecting her privacy, I don't want to disclose what that was. It wouldn't fall under the category of "minor," but it certainly was not life-threatening either. It was something that required treatment, a treatment that made our lives that much more interesting (as though new parents don't already have enough to deal with) on a daily basis for the first six weeks of her life. It involved a lot of doctor's appointments and the like. It resolved, though, with strict adherence to the treatment plan.
When she was diagnosed, Everett and I already felt so..raw...emotionally. Hearing this diagnosis made us feel even more hurt and sad. They reassured us that she did not feel any pain or discomfort from it. It hurt us, though, to know she had a medical problem that would have to be treated, and it was hard not to think there was something we could have done to prevent it (there was not) or something we did to cause it (again, there was not). It's just something that happens, not uncommonly in newborn babies, and it's not life-threatening or even "serious" by most definitions of the word, but it can cause some problems (which I would definitely call minor problems) later in life if it's not treated. In fact, it used to go undiagnosed and its frequency has only been recognized in recent years, and it's probably a good thing that it gets diagnosed early and treated so it doesn't cause problems later in life. However, a lot of people probably never even find out they have it, if it wasn't diagnosed in childhood. The initial treatment, when it is diagnosed at birth, is very non-invasive and does not involve any medications or surgical procedures. Sorry to be cryptic, but I just don't want to be posting all the details of her medical history all over the internet. For anyone who wants to talk with me privately about it, I am open to telling you more.
I did feel protective of her and really didn't want anyone except immediate family to know about it. I didn't want anyone to think there was anything "wrong" with our baby. Another mom whose baby had the same problem saw some of the things I had posted on Facebook and sent me a message asking about it (it's really something only someone who has experienced it would have recognized or noticed). We exchanged some messages about our experiences. I was actually so relieved to know someone else was dealing with the same problem. It made me realize how common it really is. It also helped to be able to talk about it, especially to someone who knew what it was and what it was like to deal with it...and who knew it wasn't our "fault."
In the end, we were actually lucky. Lucky that it was diagnosed early, and lucky that it improved so quickly with the early conservative measures. It could have gone undiagnosed, in which case it might have required more aggressive management in the future. Or it could have improved slowly (as it does for many babies) and required much longer treatment. She will continue to see a specialist just a couple times during her infancy and early toddler years to make sure things remain good, but it looks as though it's over and done with now.
We dealt with a few other medical problems in the first 2 months of her life, the details of which I will spare you. I would definitely label those as "minor," though minor doesn't mean they don't have a big impact on day-to-day life. It was no picnic. She had 2 ER visits before she was 6 weeks old. Sitting in the ER waiting room for hours with a several-week-old baby (and having to breastfeed there) is not my favorite thing in the world. It's really not the best place to bring a newborn, given the potential for exposure to infectious illnesses. The good thing is that all the issues were addressed. Just not without a lot of time, energy, and heartache on our part. I don't really think Corinne was too bothered by any of it. It was mostly hard on mom and dad!
Anyway, I fared ok myself. They told me my hematocrit (blood count) was 27 (quite low) the day following the C section. At my last doctor's appointment before the delivery, my hematocrit had been 39 (very good). I had never been anemic, even though most people experience some anemia during pregnancy. They put me on an iron supplement (ugh, like I need more nausea and constipation right now). I refused the Percocet they prescribed (pretty typical post-C section) after the first 24 hours because it just made me feel drowsy and gave me a headache, and it didn't seem to help much with my pain anyway. I stuck to ibuprofen, which seemed to give me the most relief. I took regular Tylenol for additional pain relief.
I was surprised by how limited I felt. Even with the adjustable bed in the hospital room, getting up to get to the baby was so painful. It seemed I had to move slowly and delicately no matter what I was doing to try to avoid a lot of pain. Coughing and sneezing were the absolute worst. If you ever wondered how much you use your abdominal muscles to do those things, you definitely find out after a C section. Every time I had to cough or sneeze (or laugh hard, which I really didn't do very often those first couple of months), it brought tears to my eyes (for weeks afterward). My body was incredibly swollen, which I hadn't expected. I had only mild edema during the pregnancy; it had been hardly noticeable. During the first week after delivery, my legs were so swollen that they looked like tree trunks. I couldn't squeeze my feet into my shoes. Everything else swelled too, including my abdomen, my hands, my cheeks and eyelids. It was bizarre (but apparently normal). I felt enormous. I will say that my first shower (the next morning) was so nice. I had a hearty appetite and ate well, even though the hospital food was less than great. I was having sweats and chills, mostly at night. Nursing staff told me it was just hormones. The docs were more concerned about infection, since we had labored so long before going to surgery. They kept us in the hospital 2 nights for that reason, though 2 nights is actually typical for post-C section.
A week after the delivery, once the swelling fully subsided, I was 20 pounds (which was probably just fluid, baby and associated things like the placenta) lighter than I had been at my last Ob appointment.
Breastfeeding was painful at first, and it remained painful for weeks. I don't care what anyone says; this is NORMAL! You're just not accustomed to having your nipples "used" in this way for hours a day, and it hurts at first. Our little one had a great latch and was a good feeder. It just took some getting used to, from my end of things.
Sleep...well, need I even mention sleep? You don't do it when you have a new baby. That's normal too. We had sleep problems beyond what was typical down the road, which I may describe more in future posts. But nobody sleeps very much those first 2 months at least. So we were tired. No big surprise there.
It took me at least 3 weeks to start to feel remotely better physically, but the pain persisted long after that. It was around 6 weeks that I started to feel able to do things like take little walk around the block with the stroller. Heck, I still have pain around my incision sometimes, and it has been more than 5 months.
I hadn't anticipated all the different kinds of physical discomfort I would have, and I knew there would be "baby blues," but I really hadn't really anticipated feeling the way I did emotionally, which was made about 100 times worse by some family drama. I'll talk about this more in my next post.
We made it through, but I'm not planning on reliving those first weeks with a new baby any time soon, and, I don't want to set myself up for disappointment, but I hope I never have to have a C section again.
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