Well, my newborn isn't a newborn anymore. Isla will be 3 months old in a few weeks. She is getting so big and I miss how tiny she once was. Every time I look at Isla, I am reminded about how much my husband and I struggled to have her. The creation of her life is a truly a gift. During my pregnancy, I remember thinking about how I couldn't wait to meet her and I was really looking forward to motherhood. And that's why when I started to experience postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety, I was shocked.
It all started on the first night we spent with her in the hospital. My husband was getting ready to go home and I was feeling anxious and panicked at being alone in a hosptial room with our newborn. She was so small, this little tiny life that was depending on us for everything; her trust in us implicitly and I was so scared that I would not be able to meet her needs or nuture her properly. Tearfully, I asked my husband to stay with me and he did. That night, the three of us slept in the tiny hospital bed; I was estatic and scared all at the same time.
My husband was at home with us for 5 weeks. The anxiety and depression I was experiencing were at all time high. I wasn't getting any sleep, my milk a week to come in (leaving us with no other choice than to supplement with formula as Isla was losing weight), I was very sore and in pain from the delivery and I had no idea what I was doing. When Isla cried, I couldn't tell if she was hungry, tired or needed a diaper change and, sometimes it was none of those things. I know babies cry, it's the only way they can communicate...it was simply very hard for me to hear my little one cry. It was total chaos and I had no idea how to get it together.
In the few days before my husband went back to work, I began to feel even more anxious. I was terrified to be left alone with our daughter. My sister, who experienced significant PPD and PPA herself, is a stay-at-home-mother and lives 5 minutes away from me. She totally understood what I was going through and told me I could come to her house all day, every day if I needed to. And I did. When Isla finished her morning feed, I would get her and myself ready to go to my sister's house. We would spend the day at her house and leave when my husband was on his way home. We did this routine for about 3 weeks.
During this time, I kept wondering how I was going to manage for the balance of my maternity leave (in Canada, we get a year). Isla would not sleep any where but in my arms (or anyone's arms), which left me pinned to the couch. If I put her down once she fell asleep, she would cry shortly after. Isla was completely attached to me all day...either she was on my boob feeding or sleeping on me. At night, she would sleep in our bed, nestled in the crook of my arm. I could only shower at night, when my husband got home. I could go to the bathroom only when was awake, which wasn't often and she couldn't stay awake for long periods of time. The bottom line was, I wasn't enjoying motherhood at all. I felt drained, exhausted beyond anything I can describe, totally unconfident that I could take care of my baby, concerned she would never sleep in her crib and having mini meltdowns daily.
People kept telling me it will get better. And eventually it did. The anxiety and depression are finally lifting, although I still have bad moments here and there. Thanks to the support of my family, I was able to feel much better and get a handle on things.
Isla will be three months old this weekend. I can't believe how time flies! She is changing every single day and she amazes me. And I'm thrilled to be enjoying motherhood these days :)
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