First of all, check out that 'do! Like two big buns.
I can't even tell you the thoughts that run through my head. I can write about them here, but to describe in full detail the (I wanted to write joy) but nightmare came first.
Literally nightmares. All night. Not every night. But when I wake up barely able to catch me breath with a pounding heart and run to check on Bode, I am afraid to fall back asleep.
I am experiencing what some might call, the first few rough months of becoming a first time mother.
Other might say, it's postpartum depression or anxiety. My counselor says it has everything to do with Bode's traumatic entrance into this world.
And then working 3 days after he was born. WHO THE HELL DO I THINK I AM!? I am NOT someone who can run full steam ahead 150% day in and day out. Those people do exist, but I'm not one of them. I tread lightly. I think deeply. I consider everything before making a move.
There was one night my husband was working a 24 hour shift and I gave my son infant Tylenol because he had been crying for 2 hours. He's teething. And when I say crying, I mean tears dripping down his face, shoving his hand far enough down his throat that he gagged and in inconsolable pain. I tried the cold, wet washcloths, holding him non-stop, letting him chew on my hand, rubbing his gums and just about everything and felt like a bad mom when I succumbed to western medicine.
This is the hardest, saddest, most awesome, hilarious, sweet and dark 24/7 "job" I have ever had and I'm only getting started...which excites and frightens me.
When people tell me to "enjoy it, these months fly by!" I want to invite them over to my house, no, invite them into my brain and tell them to sit there for a while. Then see how they feel.
So many Mom's I talk to go through agonizing pain and depression and loss of identity that it makes me feel normal. This isn't to say that I don't have days where I can't wait to wake him up, smile so big I get a headache and scoop him out of his Pac n' Play. Those days exist too.
Did you know that becoming a mother is synonymous with adrenal fatigue syndrome? That most mothers continue for decades feeling like crap, but thinking that is just how rough it is?
It's not supposed to be like that. We are supposed to get help. That is why entire villages help women raise children. Just not in our country. Or in my country (U.S.A.).
Physically, I'm feeling much better. Got my first 5 mile walk in yesterday in the sunshine! I teach Mama + Baby Yoga, so I've been down dogging over Bode's head, but I don't know this body.
I don't know if it's okay to do planks, twists or certain stretches because I had a major abdominal surgery and was sent home with no follow up plan. Listening to my body is one thing, but knowing what exercises I'm allowed to do, while I internally heal for the next year is another.
This is why I'm creating a postnatal program.
So we can have answers to our questions and stop hitting up google on the daily.
I read an article the other day that said, "we're in the over-information era." This worked for that generation, this works for ours and that will work for the future.
We're misled, misguided and overly anxious we're doing the right thing.
We're confused. Isolated. Guilted by social media images of perfect people doing perfect things.
Sure, I love pretty pictures, people and scenery, but I want real.
And that's why I share my journey, no glass slippers. Sneakers or sandals these days and 5 years ago, I wore stilettos.
There are days when I don't make it out of my robe and days where I have on makeup with straightened hair and a cute dress.
Next time a new mama says she's overwhelmed and tired, pat her on the back and just listen.
Let's make a pact. Stick together. Let's be the village every woman needs.