Postpartum

I want to talk about the postpartum experience, because I believe – and Habermas agrees – that only through open, meaningful conversation can we understand each other and improve our lives (or society as a whole).

Postpartum depression is being taken seriously. But what I have to say isn’t necessarily about depression. Rather, it’s about what I experienced when I first became a mother. I assume each of us experiences this change uniquely but I also think it may be worthwhile to address some general feelings on the subject. Remember when I posted pictures of my very messy house? (It’s still fairly messy, but getting better, in case you’re wondering.) Almost every response I heard was, “My house looked like that when I was at your stage” or “My house looks like that right now.” It helps us in no small way to realize that we are not alone in being imperfect. So when we talk about becoming mothers, I expect that it’s healthy to acknowledge that the experience in its entirety is not filled with moments of glowing bliss.

I anticipated the possibility of having postpartum depression. I was forewarned that I might not always like my children. What I wasn’t prepared for was that every aspect of my life would change, profoundly and suddenly.

When I was pregnant with Evan – and here I’m assuming that this is a fairly typical experience – I got lots of attention, especially since it was my first pregnancy. Everyone wanted to know how I was feeling physically and emotionally, if I was ready to have a baby, what names I liked. There was general concern about my health and general celebration about the upcoming bundle of joy. And for a week or two after Evan was born, friends and relatives were very solicitous.

Then my mom left. Then Jarom went back to work. Then it was just Evan and me. Then there were 2am feedings, 3am diaper changes, 4am why-is-he-cryings. These were all followed and often accompanied by feeling overwhelmed. My complete focus was now on taking care of a new baby, and I had no idea how difficult it would be to almost disregard any thought of myself. I suppose I didn’t know that I’d need to disregard myself. But there Evan and I were, both of us crying in the middle of the night for reasons we couldn’t explain.

Evan wasn’t a difficult baby. He was easy. By three months he was sleeping through the night, on his own, in another room. He usually woke up once or twice to eat but never wanted to just be awake at night. Gradually, things got easier, and I slowly learned how to take care of both Evan and myself (and Jarom, although for his part he had to fend for himself a lot during those first few months). In the early days and weeks, though, it was so hard for me to adjust to motherhood. I won’t go so far as to say I hated it, but I was miserable. I was exhausted. I felt incapable. I felt selfish for wanting to give Evan to someone else for a few hours. I felt guilty for feeling selfish. I felt like a bad mother. I felt like choosing to be a mother was a terrible, stupid decision. I felt like the rest of my life would be spent being miserable.

Fortunately, I was wrong – but I didn’t know that then. And that’s what made motherhood so difficult for me at first. It was bleak and stressful and definitely not filled with moments of glowing bliss. I still don’t think I’d classify this as postpartum depression, even though everything seemed hopeless, mainly because my main thought then was that I was clearly not cut out to be a mother. I had this illusion that a good mother, someone who was “destined” for motherhood, would be calm and peaceful during those 2am feedings and 3am diaper changes, and she’d know exactly why her baby was crying at 4am. She’d never think to herself, “It would be so great if I could take a shower today.” In fact, in my mind, this woman would have parenting so under control that there never was a day when she went without showering or when she stayed in her pajamas all day.

Guys, that is an illusion. It is NOT reality. Aside from the late nights, my biggest challenge was learning how to be ME as a mom instead of trying to be this ideal (unrealistic) mom. I think that’s part of why my postpartum period was so much easier with June – I had already gotten comfortable with what kind of mother I am, and I could step back from stressful situations just enough to see that my lack of sleep was the driving force behind my frustration. It didn’t mean I was unfit to be a mother.

How typical is my experience? I don’t know, because I think our inclination is to say we’re absolutely delighted to have a new baby. But if we put on a good face, we teach the soon-to-be mothers that they ought to be delighted too, which is likely to lead to an experience like mine.

So be honest. How did you adjust to motherhood? Was it emotionally challenging as well as physically draining? What do you think new moms should expect?

Identity

In my short experience as a mother, it’s been difficult for me to not feel like I’ve been completely absorbed into motherhood. Guilt sets in when I consider taking away from the Bwun and jr to do something just for me. The Romgi has patiently and repeatedly explained that I need to have time for myself, and I need to keep my own identity intact. There’s nothing wrong with defining myself as a mother first and everything else second – parenting really is an all-encompassing, non-stop occupation, and I love it.

I also love that I’m able to go to school right now. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that I won’t always have kids at home, and I want to still have my own personality and identity at that point. Having the chance to finish my degree, even if it’s taken way too long, will do so much for my sanity at the moment and my confidence in the long run.

I’m learning to embrace my identity instead of feeling overwhelmed by it or unhappy because of it. I’m not incompetent, I’m not a failure, I’m not a disappointing wife or mother. I am a thriving, talented, intelligent person and one of the many roles I’m privileged to take on is that of mother.

What are some of the roles you’ve taken on? How do they affect your perception of your identity?

My lot in life

I’m a complainer.

Unless this is your first time reading my blog, you know that by now. You’ve probably known that for a while. Poor the Romgi, he knows it best of all. I think maybe I just enjoy complaining.

It isn’t a very good trait.

To make up for it, today I want to tell you how great my life is. Not perfect, mind you – we may never get there. But it’s pretty fabulous. Here’s why.

1. Family. I come from a really marvelous family and I definitely love the Romgi’s family, too. Best of all is our own little family. Have you met the Bwun? Oh man, what a kid. Allow me to gush: the Bwun is the cutest, sweetest, smartest little guy and I a-dore him. Then there’s jr. Absolutely beautiful, mellow (even more than the Bwun was)…there are few things in the world better than her little smile. And to have the Romgi with me in this grand adventure – did I luck out or what?

2. Education. I suppose it’s my fault for putting it off so long, but doing school right now is quite a challenge and sacrifice for both me and the Romgi. It means a lot less time we get to spend together, and a lot more stress. But BYU has a major I find interesting, unbelievably low tuition, and a good atmosphere for me. I can’t wait until next spring when the Romgi and I both graduate. His degree will be a little (or a lot) more impressive, but I like to imagine that even my bachelor’s degree will be something nifty considering what I will have gone through to get it.

3. Shelter. We live in a basement. There’s no real oven here. Some nights we have jr sleep in the living room because it’s more convenient. You know what? I love our quirky little apartment. It works amazingly well for us. True, the whole place is usually a disaster, but blame that on me, not the apartment. Our ward is incredible, there’s a jetted tub in our bathroom, and we have our own washer and dryer. I’m not sure we could ask for much more (except maybe an oven. Maybe).

4. Clothes. Last week I put a load of darks through the wash, and when they were dry I discovered that the Bwun had put a black fountain pen into the laundry basket and it went in with the clothes. Almost the entire load was ruined, aside from some pajamas. (You do have to wonder why the clothes that didn’t matter were untouched by the ink, right?) Today the Romgi and I replaced and upgraded our ink-stained clothes. The Romgi has barely bought any new clothes since we got married, which is coming up on 4 years. He desperately needed a wardrobe pickup. We left the Bwun with his grandpa and went shopping – jr was with us, but it was almost like a date. Now the Romgi and I both have killer clothes.

5. Food. The Romgi is the best cook. Plus we got a loaf of homemade bread that is divine as toast for eating with poached eggs.

6. Perspective. I realize my complaining makes it hard to believe, but I have a decent idea of how very blessed and lucky I am. Many people in the world are suffering physically, mentally, and emotionally. They don’t have either their temporal or spiritual needs met. By most standards my life is not only easy but beautiful. Of course I feel like I have plenty of challenges to face, but I also see how peaceful and content my world is.

7. Books. For a few months last year, I didn’t want to read at all. I was sick of books and sick of reading. Even though I’m a lot busier this year, I’m making time to go to the library (especially with the Bwun) and allow myself some relaxation and mental escape through books. No reading challenges this year, so I’d love to hear any and all recommendations for what to read next. I might even join a book group!

I also love your comments. It continually surprises me what random readers are lurking in the background. If you’re reading, let me know. If you have a blog, let me know. We’ll be blog buddies.

What are you grateful for today? Or would you rather complain? It’s fine by me if you do. Like I said – I’m a complainer, too.