Those First Few Weeks

They are hard aren't they?  You know, the first few weeks when you bring your baby home.  I woke up today and as I was taking my shower and having my morning conversations with myself...you know...the one you have that releases pent up feelings and then give yourself the daily pep talk.  You say everything you've ever wanted to say to a person if they were standing there.  You know you can't say any of the horrid words coming out of your mouth because, you would never speak to that person again.  That person changes daily, sometimes it's a parent, or your spouse, or your friends, or a co-worker.  Well you get the point.  I have a conversation everyday where I release the pent up frustration and then let it go.  Today was different.  Today I had to write it down. 

My son Ian was born in August.  He came three weeks early.  I was terrified, but kept up a strong front.  My son and husband needed me.  My blood pressure shot up overnight and I was pre-eclamptic out of nowhere.  It wasn't suprising since I was retaining 45 pounds of fluids.  I guess I was hoping it wouldn't happen.  After laboring for a day and not dialating past one centimeter, I decided to explore additional birthing options.  I wanted a c-section.  I didn't really, but my blood pressure and body couldn't take much more.  The medicine they had me on to keep my BP down was making me feel worse than contractions.  I was a wreck with worry for my baby and my husband was a wreck with worry for me. 

At first I thought that I was less of a woman for not sticking it out, but I got over that.  I was able to get some sleep, my blood pressure came down a little, and then I was taken away to an OR so I could have my baby.  I was delerious with excitement.  I would finally meet my little Ian.  He wasn't ready to be out, but my body had other ideas.  I cracked jokes during the surgery and cried when I heard him, I hugged my doctor and told him to move with us to NC because I know ladies and I would hook him up with them.  I compared my son to MacDuff from Shakespeare's MacBeth.  MacDuff was the only person that could kill MacBeth because he was born by a cesaerean.  It's what the witches said and what Shakespeare wrote.  I was on a lot of drugs at that moment.  After he was cleaned up and warm, our Ian stopped crying and fell asleep.  My life and Jeremy's would never be the same. 

I wanted to see him so badly, but not yet.  Ian was cold because he was so tiny.  Coming in at only five pounds and ten ounces will do that.



When I finally got to hold him I couldn't stop crying.  Even now as I type this out, I'm crying thinking about that moment when I first held my first child.  It was without any hesitation the most powerful moment of my life.  I can barely describe that emotions that crashed over me like tidal waves.  Wave after wave kept crashing down upon me, and tears kept flowing from my eyes.  He was so small and precious at that moment.  I was forever changed and was ready for that change.  I don't know what people mean when they say that no one is ready for parenthood.  I was and still am. 

The incision hurt, I was so gassy for some reason, and my blood pressure was not getting better.  I was sent home with the baby and bag full of medicine.  The BP meds made me so exhausted that I slept through Ian's crying.  I had to be forced awake so I could feed him or pump.  I was starting to expel the fluids so rapidly and my body was changing on me again that I could hardly keep up.  All I know is that I wanted to hold my child at every moment of the day.  I still do, but I have finally learned that it's okay to put him down...he'll be fine. 

My mom and step-dad were visiting too.  I guess we needed the help with the new baby.  It's as this point when the fun begins.  And I mean fun in the most sarcastic of tones.  I honestly felt that if we didn't do things my mom's way, then Jeremy and I were bad parents and harming our baby.  I felt that there had to be a schedule and control over a situation that to me was uncontrollable and a schedule didn't apply.  Ian ate, slept, went to the bathroom, and needed to be held.  Not much else you can do.  Her "suggestions" were fine, but not what we wanted to do.  If either one of us tried to say something, then we were ungratful and didn't want her help.  Well that's how I perceived the situation.  It was miserable and I was miserable, well let's be honest, we were all miserable.  I felt so bad for my child too.  He was living in a world of stress and bickering and I know he could feel my tension.  I knew I was letting him down and I had to do something, but I was too tired to fight back and I just couldn't let it get any worse.  Until one night...I finally lost it.  I was so mad that I was barely able to contain my rage at her.  When my mom left a few days later, I went to see my counselor.  I knew I was suffering from Post-Partum Depression and was resentful.  I wasn't just resentful at her, but at the entire situation.  Her behavior was self-centered and childish.  I know mine wasn't better, but it was my time in my opinion.  It was time for me to get to know my son.  And I was getting ready to give up something so I could feel better. 

The point of all of this goes back to the beginning.  I was in the shower today having my morning venting conversation, then my pep talk and I realized that I'm still mad at her.  It was awful at home.  I became so depressed. The stress made me sick and my blood pressure was high again and it was at that moment that I realized I had to go on medicine that worked.  I had to give up breast feeding.  It was in that moment a loss in my life,  and it took me months to recover from it.  There are still days where it gets to me that I had to give up breast feeding.  Why did it bother me so much? I guess it's because part of the reason I had to get back on blood pressure medication was becasue of the tension in my home.  But there was the logical part of me that knew I had to do right by my child.  If wasn't healthy, then I wouldn't be able to care for him properly.  That's how I convinced myself at first.  A couple of months later, I finally realized that I need to be healthy to care for him...no matter what. 

For two months I was in therapy to get the help that I needed and to make sure that I would survive the move.  Oh yeah, we moved halfway across country as well.  We were going to stay with my mom for a few weeks and I knew it would be difficult again.  I was still angry and resentful and couldn't say anything without blowing up.  We hit a few speedbumps and it helped having Jeremy with me, and it helped getting the therapy that I needed.  I still had days where Ian would be beyond fussy and I knew it was tension.  As soon as we moved into our home, Ian was back to himself again. Even now, I am still surprised at things that my mom does. However, I realized something on this journey and it's this: I must be the one to change my behavior. Don't overreact when she says things that get to me and just say thank you for the suggestions and know that I'm going to do what I want. 

I am a grown woman that is raising my child my way and my husband's way.  We are loving every moment of our time with Ian. 

My Ian, My Heart