Hand him to me.
What?
Hand the baby to me.
No, I don’t…
Really. You need to give him to me and just go lie down for a while.
So, I did.
As she looked steadily into my wild, panicked, devastated eyes, I handed my mother-in-law my tiny, baby boy. My crying, unhappy baby. My miserable, colicky, life-changing, impossible-to-please, horrible, nasty baby. My baby who, at least at that moment, I couldn’t be around for one second longer. Shouldn’t be around for one second longer. And she knew it.
I gave her my baby. And then, alone (very, very alone) I went upstairs.
I lay in my bed and, through my silent tears, listened. I listened as she spoke to him quietly. As she paced the house soothing him.
Predictably, he responded to her calm and slowly….slowly…slowly…he stopped shrieking and became the contented child I didn’t know at all. The contented, happy child I clearly didn’t deserve.
Because she, unlike me, was a Mom. She knew how to be a real Mom.
And, all I knew was how to be afraid.
Afraid that Husband and I had made the biggest mistake of our lives in having this child.
Afraid that this child, who clearly hated me, was slowly succeeding in ensuring the feeling was mutual.
Afraid that, in the most important undertaking of my life (of anyone’s life), I was nothing but a failure.
I was failing my baby. And, he knew it. The little bastard knew it.
__________
In hindsight, of course, it all looks so clear. My sickness. Postpartum depression. My OCD personality devastated by complete lack of control after childbirth. I was a mess. But, I was lucky to have help from my mother-in-law and from my own mother (not to mention my incredibly patient Husband) as we all muddled through it without any professional help. Without recognizing overtly that I was, in fact, not “right”.
When the baby was about two weeks old, his pediatrician told me not to worry. That the colic would likely not last beyond six weeks. That he’d be alright.
Six weeks?
It sounded like an eternity. Another month of this?
He’ll be alright? What about me?
I was pretty sure we’d both never make it.
__________
Today, when friends ask me (real friends, at least) to wax poetic about all the joys they can expect of their impending motherhood, I’m usually honest. Because, let’s face it, most people aren’t honest.
It’s really, really hard. Really hard. Don’t be afraid if you don’t feel the way you think you should be feeling. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don’t be afraid to admit it sucks sometimes. Call me. I’ll understand. I understand that sometimes it isn’t one bit easy.
But, I also understand that babies are the single greatest blessing (and I don’t use that word easily) ever given to any of us. And that parenthood is, ultimately, worth every struggle, every tear, every feeling of utter failure.
Because, one day, he’ll fall asleep snuggled up atop your heart and you’ll feel his silky hair brushing against your chin.
And then, not too long after, he’ll give a happy, crooked smile at the sight of your face.
And, one day, he’ll look up at you and he’ll call you “Mommy”. And you’ll feel the depth of what that title means.
And you can’t possibly imagine how you ever lived without him.
Once again you nailed it 🙂 thanks for always reminding me that I am normal 🙂 xoxo to you and your boys
Thanks, Heidi. Was kind of a hard one to write so I truly appreciate the sweet comment.
Dead on. I was there with you (well probably a few hundred miles away, but emotionally right there) and now feel like it’s important to prepare new moms to be as no one prepared me. I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn’t expect to be sobbing on the way home from the hospital, or wearing dark sunglasses to mask my terror, or for the tears and sobbing (both his and mine) to continue for the next 8 weeks.
I think so many new moms get blindsided. Thanks for capturing the truth so eloquently.
Thanks, Jenna. Sounds as though we’ve shared pretty similar paths in our more “grown-up” life. Glad you’re been reading and commenting.
And, hey — who knew back then that we’d have much more in common than an affinity for dollar drafts at Lilly’s?
This is very, very well done. I didn’t realize until my second baby.
Thank you!
First, second, nine hundredth (WTF, Duggars?!), I can’t imagine it’s EVER easy.
This was written PERFECTLY!!!! EVERYTHING is so similar, almost EXACTLY to what I experienced. My son had reflux/colic, was allergic to my breastmilk, hard to soothe, all of that. I felt like a failure, I wasn’t sure if I “liked” him, was ashamed of my feelings, WORRIED and was so unbelievably ANXIOUS the entire time, I don’t know how I survived. I watch old home videos of me and him as an infant, and I have a loving smile on my face and I coo at him, etc., but I don’t really remember that. I remember the feelings of angst and worry and FEAR during that whole time. I guess I had beautiful, simple moments too, but geez, I don’t know. I think I realized I was struggling with some major depression when he was almost a year old. I tried a few natural things and worked with a doctor (I didn’t want to take medication), but then, when he was about 1 1/2 I gave up and started taking Zoloft, and it was such a relief. I thought, Why did I put myself through it?? Why didn’t I just start taking the medicine earlier.
Thanks so much, Kristy. I often wonder, when I see pictures, “who WAS that smiling woman”? It’s such a messy blur. I feel like I cried constantly. Thankfully, no one else remembers it as horribly as I do. I’m so glad it resonated. Thanks for commenting.
Thanks for writing this. Again, you have brought me to tears. While my madness tends to lend itself more towards anxiety, I can feel the pain behind your words. As a new mom who is able to reach out to so many new moms in my job, I hope to share with them what may be ahead-to talk about something that they did not consider while registering at Pottery Barn Kids-and to offer them the hope that comes from a shared experience. Could I refer them to your blog? I have really enjoyed following it-I feel like I have gotten to know you and wished you lived closer-we could have a lot to laugh and cry over. Keep writing! You are helping so many people through your gift of words.
serialswooper
Laura — PLEASE refer them to my blog! Nothing could be more flattering. And, knowing what you’ve been through as a Mommy, it means so much to me to know that you connect on any level with what I write.
I LOVE what you write! It is like you take what is in our hearts and pop it down on paper…..
I actually did not have as hard of a time with Baby #2. I did prenatally before we knew of any complications, but then I think all the worry made me rise to the occasion and just fight, fight, fight for him! I think I had so much adrenaline running through me for the first eight weeks or so, taking care of his meds, etc. , that I am just now settling down and having my expected number of meltdowns. Maybe my husband would tell a different story, but that is my take on it:)
That was beautiful! And I’m sure very difficult to write let alone live through.
While I didn’t experience PPD, I did wonder before my first was born if I was going to love her. That sounds SO awful, I know. I wanted her desperately, but I had no younger siblings, cousins, anything to relate to. I was rarely around babies. It seemed so foreign to me. I didn’t dote on little kids. I was never around them. I used to see right through them.
The fact that I was going to HAVE a baby never seemed “real.” Until the 2nd day in the hospital after she was born when I was holding and walking with her snuggled into my neck. She reached up and grasped me w/her tiny little arms in what felt like the best hug in the world. That was my moment. The moment I fell in love with her.
Your comment was beautiful and thoughtful. Thanks for posting it.
I was always (maybe still am) terrified of babies. The necks, the unpredictability. You know what I mean. Give me a toddler and I’m good to go but babies…good lord.
This post brought me to tears (hormones after having a baby 2 months ago? Maybe ; ) but beautifully written and so wonderfully honest. Your boys are so lucky to have you as their mommy……
Karen, Congrats on the new baby! Is TC next?
Happy you’re reading. Thanks for the nice comments.
[…] stairs when Big Brother was about five weeks old. Just when I was coming out of the fog that was postpartum depression, I wound up with a broken foot, cast, crutches and a warning from my doctor not to, under any […]
I just read this and you capsulized the feelings I had after my ds was born. It was my husband that I had to turn my infant over to, and it was he I was angry with b/c he obviously understood this screaming, squalling, unpleasant ball of flesh that I was supposed to love and cherish from birth onward… I remember spending weekends just crying b/c I was terrified that either the baby or I would die… thank you for sharing your story and how brave you are.
Thanks, R-Mom. It truly means so much to me to hear that I wasn’t alone in feeling like it was the g-damn HARDEST thing ever to be a new Mom. We are not alone.
Oh wow, what a wonderfully poignant piece. My cousin was so depressed for months after her first born. My heart broke for her. Her fears and feelings of inadequacy are perfectly articulated in your words.
There are so many wild feelings involved with having kids. I is so important to feel them all, to chat about them and, for those compelled, to write about them. Thanks for sharing.