Tag Archives: Relationships

A Trip Down Postpartum Lane

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Although I did not fully intend to take a maternity leave from my blog, it seems that scheduling, exhaustion, and emotions have effectively accomplished that for me. The miracle of life continues to be extraordinary for those of us who brought it into being, but for those who did not, I know that reading a daily log of my new son’s eating, pooping, and sleeping schedule may be somewhat less than thrilling. Unfortunately these are the things that consume my days as of late. Combined with an ever-present struggle to maintain my sanity through the fog of postpartum hormones and little to no sleep, it has been hard to find the energy and inspiration (much less time) to sit down and write. But writing is an integral and important part of my fulfillment – and hopefully important to some of you, my readers, as well – so I am making the time. Forgive me if the subject matter is somewhat sub-par. It is where I am now and it is what I have to give.

The involuntary drugs I am constantly hopped up on – otherwise know as postpartum hormones – are a cruel and unusual reality. I know that they are the cause of much of the way that I feel (which makes me feel crazy), but the feelings themselves are real and valid. I cannot simply ignore them. Allow me to give you a tour of what goes on in my head most days lately:

I find it exceptionally difficult to separate myself from my tiny newborn son. Even now, I have his video monitor right next to me as I write and I find myself looking at it at least as much as I look at this screen on which I am typing. For nine months he and I were connected. Two people existing together in the same body but separate. And as much as I hated pregnancy there is an odd and intense separation anxiety that happens when he is no longer part of me. It feels unnatural, in a way, for him to be across the room, even though I know it is, of course, not. I am jealous and possessive of him and feel disconnected from everyone else. Like no one else really understands… or cares. And I don’t blame them. Perhaps my life has changed radically over the last three weeks, but theirs hasn’t. Sooner or later, my new baby is not the center of everyone else’s attention. But most of the time if feel like it should be, darn it!

Everyone treats a pregnant lady, especially a big pregnant lady, special. But almost as soon as the baby is born, all of the special attention transfers to him. And this too feels unfair. I had major abdominal surgery 3 weeks ago and now, for all intents and purposes, am housebound while still trying to care for both of my children. I deserve to be treated special too, right?

And my hubby, whose life has also changed dramatically, has the added privilege of dealing with all of my insanity. This often makes him withdraw, because really, what is there for him to do besides take care of all of our practical needs (which he does superbly)? He can’t even begin to touch everything that’s going on inside me. This, in turn makes me feel distant from him and guilty for making him have to deal with me. He practically had to beg me to go out to dinner with him tonight and let my parents, who are visiting, watch the boys. And yet, it feels so wrong for me to leave the baby, that I almost resent him for insisting we go. Crazy, right? I know.

And you remember those fears I mentioned a while back about whether or not I would be able to love Owen as much as Aiden, who I have adored intensely from the moment he was born? Everyone told me that I would have no trouble. That love multiplies rather than divides. They were, of course, right. I adore Owen every bit as much as I do Aiden. But the irony of it is, I sometimes find myself even resenting Aiden for demanding so much of me at a time when I ought to be able to enjoy my new baby as much as I was able to enjoy him. Thankfully, I don’t think I’ve ever shown him these feelings but it’s bad enough that they’re there. Especially since he has been SUCH a wonderful boy since we came home from the hospital and SO tender and loving with his new little brother. It is astonishing and beautiful to watch and makes my heart swell.

Then there are feelings of inadequacy. Like I just can’t handle each new step along the way – leaving the hospital; Jonathan going back to work; visitors coming; those same visitors leaving; returning to work myself… Jonathan is going out of town 3 time in June and I don’t know how I am possibly going to manage the boys by myself while he is gone. I know I will. I have to. I just don’t believe that I can.

And in the middle of all of this, I am having to search for new childcare for when I return to work. This gives me constant and recurring panic attacks. If I have so much trouble leaving my baby with my mom, how in the world will I be able to leave him with a complete stranger in 5 or 6 weeks. I have no idea.

Add to this the fact that this baby, who I am so protective and possessive of, is one giant bundle of need – perpetuating a cycle of nursing, diaper changes, gas pains, fitful and broken sleep, and repeat – and you have the recipe for a perfect storm.

I know that all of this will pass. I had many of the same feelings after I had Aiden, perhaps to a worse degree. But when you are in the midst of them, flooded with emotions and hormones that you can’t control, it is sometimes hard to remember that life will return to normal. A new normal perhaps, but normal nonetheless. So in case any of my friends are planning to come see me anytime soon, bear in mind that this is the me that exists on the inside – even if what you see on the outside is remarkably held together. And if this inside me is too scary, I completely understand. I’ll let you know when the fog clears. If not, come help me weather the lonely craziness and I’ll try to keep the monster at bay. Besides, Owen is so incredible cute and wonderful, that seeing him is worth braving me ;)

A Willing Recipient of Kindness

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I am an extrovert.  Anyone who knows me would never dispute this fact. My husband is an introvert. He recharges his emotional and psychological batteries with time to himself whereas I need the ears and voices of those who will listen and contribute while I process things I don’t even know I’m thinking till they’re outside my head. Most of the time we are able to find the delicate balance between our two personalities and manage to support one another according to the other’s needs even if they don’t always coincide with our own. Sometimes, however, I have to step outside of the realm of familiar faces and voices before the monotony of daily, normal interaction threatens to drive me deep into myself and I begin to shut down without even know what’s really wrong. This unhealthy threat seems to be ever-present on the edge of my emotions while I am pregnant and hopped up on hormones, tempting me to draw into myself rather than interact and release whatever is pent-up.

Today was one of those days. But rather than give in and lay on my bed, lost in a book all day pretending I wasn’t down, I got up, got out, and got better. I told Jonathan I just needed to get out of the house and I got in the car with no specific agenda or real goal other than to shake myself free of the fog I was settling into. And I realized something very crucial as I headed home a couple of hours later. I love people. Sometimes I let cynicism or impatience get the better of me and I jump too quickly to see flaws and negativity. But, in general, I am inspired even by simple interactions, unexpected displays of kindness, and windows of vulnerability that give me glimpses into someone else’s soul. I realized that, when I am sinking, I don’t always need a long drawn out conversation over coffee with a girlfriend where I try to analyze all the ins and outs of why I may be feeling the way I am. Sometimes I just need to witness humanity in its simple beauty and walk away changed by it. The smiles of the lady in the bakery who, despite the exhaustion written all over her face, has nothing by kind and helpful things to say and who wishes me luck with the baby as I buy my bread and head out the door. The ladies in the thrift store who don’t know that I’m listening from the dressing room while they recount to each other with a mixture of pride, anxiety, and deep affection stories about their teenagers on valentine’s day. Or the man at Lowe’s who, although he was about to leave early before I arrived needing help, seemed to be a bottomless pit of helpful tips and happy energy and a willingness to be of any kind of assistance – crossing the store multiple times to get something I forgot so that I wouldn’t need to leave the register and then loading my car for me in the rain – both of us laughing the whole time despite the relative unpleasantness of our days prior to this interaction. I came home smiling and cooked spaghetti for supper at my son’s request, the entire evening transformed from what the morning projected it to be. Today served as a reminder to keep my eyes open and allow myself to see, all around, the beauty that lives in people and is eagerly waiting to come out and be bestowed on willing recipients. Let me always be willing!

Romance at Home

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There is nothing that feeds affection and intimacy in a relationship like romance. Everybody knows that it is essential to a woman’s happiness. But I believe it is just as crucial to a man’s. Not only to receive it, but to give it. Even if it doesn’t come quite as naturally, the simple act of being romantic makes a man feel . . . well  . . . manly. The look of sheer pride and accomplishment on my husbands face tonight after a valiant and very successful romantic evening, said it all. He enjoyed seeing me giddy with the anticipation and fulfillment of pampering almost as much as I enjoyed experiencing it. Just before leaving work today, I received this email:

Upon my arrival at home, I was greeted first with smooches, then with the heavenly smell of made-from-scratch chicken Alfredo on the stove, and then by the sound of lovely french music and the sight of candles and wine ready to be poured. I did just as I was told and kicked off my shoes and danced around the kitchen while he finished up. And the best part was the forethought that went into creating the invitation and going to the store to buy ingredients for one of my favorite foods and doing it all himself. I would choose this evening over a 5 star Italian restaurant any day! Even the inclusion of our two-year old was no detraction. I think he could sense the positivity and happiness floating around the house and was a perfect doll all evening. He even got a glass of “wine” (white grape juice in a wine glass) and told his daddy, “I like this supper, Daddy!” Who says you need to pay a baby sitter and spend a fortune on a date to make it special? Further evidence that sometimes it is the thought and effort that accompanies a gift that makes it wonderful. Well done hubby! You’ve just raised the bar. ;)

Love and Wine and Difficult Times

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Love born of complete necessity and vulnerability, either your own or someone else’s, is rich and full and robust. If it sounds like I’m describing a really good wine, that might be because in some ways they are quite similar. It is the squishing of the grapes that creates the juice. It is the age worn barrels that enhance the flavor. It is the patience required by time that helps it mature. So it is with love. It is the difficult moments when we feel squished to our limits that new fodder for appreciation and respect and care – the building blocks of love – are born. It is through the wear and tear of stressful times that love develops and learns how to survive outside of the realm of romance. And it is definitely through patience and endurance that love gains it maturity and grows to new depths.

Making Wine Island Capri Bay Naples Grape Gathering Men - Part Page From The Illustrated London News. C1842-1900.

One of my most poignant experiences of this truth occurred after the birth of our first son. I had a difficult and complicated 22-hour labor that turned into an emergency C-section. Giving birth, under normal circumstances, is a harrowing experience, but under these circumstances was nearly unbearable. During the two hours in which I tried to push out my fully crowned baby, I burst many of the blood vessels in my face and most of them in my eyes, leaving very little white visible. When I expressed later to my husband that I was pretty sure I got hemorrhoids in the whole ordeal, he simply said, “I know.” There was a whole collection of people that saw all my business and experienced me at my most wretched and most vulnerable. And to finish it all off, I had major abdominal surgery that made it extremely difficult to move, much less accomplish the basic necessities of myself or my new-born baby. I could not use the bathroom by myself or dress myself. I could not bathe unassisted. I couldn’t lift our new baby or even walk without trying to hold my own abdomen together. I felt like I had lost all dignity, beauty, and respectability. But this was a time that my husband looked at me with AWE. He was so tender and attentive and amazed at what I had been through and accomplished in order to bring our new family into being. Rather than losing respectability, his respect for me multiplied in those days, as did mine for him. The love we had for each other in that time, born of my need and his care, was immense and unmatched. I am both terrified and excited to experience it again in a few months.

Just moments after he was born.

More recently, and somewhat less potently, we experienced another example of this type of love birthed from vulnerability. This past weekend (and on into the week) my whole family caught a terrible stomach bug that had all of us, but perhaps most pathetically my sweet little boy, in need of some extra TLC. Although this is not the first time that this has occurred, it is obviously freshest in my memory. And it is truly amazing how much you can push yourself to manage when your loved ones need you. Being five months pregnant, running on very little sleep at the tail end of the holidays, and suffering from the same bug myself, I found, somewhere deep within me, the ability to continue to get up and care for my baby who could not care for himself. And because of that care, even though he is better now, he has been positively glued to my side in a bittersweet appreciation. I cannot even tell you how many times today he hugged my legs and said, “You are a beautiful mama!” “I love you, Mama!” He feels that same gratitude and respect that we as adults feel in these circumstances and this is how he expresses it. It makes the dire reality of the week we’ve just experienced seem a little less terrible. If only it were easier to see the beauty while still in the struggle. Perhaps the more we remind ourselves of these truths the more we will begin to see them as they are happening, through the pain . . . savoring the harsh tannins as part of the flavor that makes the wine great!

Success Through the Eyes of an (Almost) 30 Year-Old… and Ralph Waldo Emerson!

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Sometimes, when faced with major milestones in our lives, as I am about to be in two days when I turn 30, we can’t help but look at where we are now and compare it to where we thought we might be. For some this comparison may be wonderful because they have accomplished so much more than what they thought was possible. For others (and I’d venture to guess this is the majority), it is a tough comparison to make. It is tough because life is rarely as grand as we imagine it will be when we are younger and because, as I so often stress in this blog, it is entirely too easy to weigh life by its grand moments, which are few and far between, rather than by the little beauties that ought to overwhelm us every day. I am trying to train my thoughts to mark worth and value by a much finer measure and take better notice of all of the little things that are the building blocks of the bigger ones. But even with my constant and vigilant efforts, I still find myself subdued, even saddened at times by all that I have not accomplished: financial stability, debt eradication, literary success (or at least notice), non-familial long-term relationships, a better handle on my own character flaws, a career. But as I begin to sink into these thoughts of “what if” or “if only” my wonderful husband often sits beside me and reminds me of all the important things I have accomplished: marrying an incredible person who I have the privilege of co-piloting life with, creating and training from scratch another human being (and a half), working to help provide for my family while being its primary care giver, producing almost a year’s worth of consistent (and, dare I say, occasionally profound) writing that has developed a growing following and influenced more people than I know, playing a distinct and important role in many people’s lives even if they are not still an active part of mine, starting a book club and voraciously consuming literature, completing a degree in two fields and opening many doors as a result, becoming an excellent cook, and constantly changing and growing and developing as each year passes. What more could I ask for? As I was contemplating these faithful encouragements from my dear hubby, I came across this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson that was so pertinent to my meditations and so poignant in its profound and elegant beauty, that it made me cry as I read it. I hope it moves you as it did me.