Finding Your Tribe

There is a weight to motherhood that I can never explain and every mother seems to carry it in their shoulders. It is where I place the burdens of the every day mundane and store my surplus of new emotional baggage. It causes me to hunch over as I nurse my daughter at 2AM. I wonder how many other women are awake and feeding their babies in the dim light of the bedside lamp. I think about how I never anticipated my breasts becoming a bigger deal than they were at 13. There are days where Haven wants to nurse every hour & a half & I feel that I have been reduced to nothing more than a milk machine. I am suddenly alone, hunched over a Boppy pillow, exiled to the couch with 3 seasons of a TV show on Netflix. There are days where I look out the window & feel like the world is just passing me by.
I know that one day I'll be able to leave the house with Haven without feeling like I'm racing against the clock that's counting down to her next feeding or diaper change. I won't have to wave the Very Hungry Caterpillar rattle in front of her face to keep her entertained. When that day comes, I'll remember to be thankful and know that, by-God, I earned a good day of walking slowly through a store without screaming & bodily fluids. It will become less crime scene, more sitcom. I'll also remember not to be smug about it - it will feel like a miracle & the stars aligned perfectly & Mercury is in retrograde & I'll give myself a high five on the way home.

Becoming a mother can be so lonely/isolating at times. In all honesty, I feel like I'm just Forrest Gump-ing my way through the first months of my daughter's life. I'm taking care of this brand new human being and suddenly I'm an adolescent again, thinking: “No one else could possibly understand what I’m going through. No one else has ever felt this way.” It is so overwhelming/frustrating/exhausting.
Keeping with the whole honesty bit - motherhood in these early weeks tends to be all work, little reward. Some days, I have to play the lullaby music on her swing non-stop & I swear it is the tune to the Barney song & I hate that it haunts my dreams. Some nights, bathing her is like trying to baptize a cat.
It can be depressing: paint-your-fingernails-black-and-listen-to-the-entire-Jagged-Little-Pill-album-depressing. So I wasn't really looking for other people who understand what I'm going through but I've become aware of them.

Since Haven was born, I can spot them anywhere; some imaginary coat of arms for my tribe. It is the woman in front of me at the grocery store with bags under her eyes that looks happy just to be out of the house by herself. It is the woman trying to get the stupid stroller to collapse while her baby screams in the car seat.

My saving grace has been the women who reached out to me after I had my daughter to say “I’m here. You can talk. I understand.” They are my tribe. They found me before I knew what to look for, when I was still isolating myself and going through the “mom-angst” thing. They check in to make sure I still have a shred of sanity or send me a link to an article about motherhood that says everything I've wanted to say but didn't know how. While being a new mom is the hardest role I've ever had, it is less lonely after finding women to reach out to.

We're all trying to figure out how to raise our babies with as little emotional damage to them & to ourselves as possible. I've heard the judgmental comments of some women - damning other mothers who don't breastfeed or use cloth diapers or co-sleep.
We need to build each other up and support one another, not tear each other down. We have to find our tribe. I see all of you - in the store, at the park, in an elevator. We're all seeking out someone to be honest with (I'm scared this won't actually get easier, I'll just learn to deal with it), someone that can find the humor in the things that make you want to bang your head against the wall (She waits for me to get back in the bed before spitting the pacifier out again), & someone to celebrate with (She smiled at me today - a genuine smile!)
Talking,laughing & some days crying are all things mothers need to do and are even better when you have someone to do those things with. I know that one day I'll be able to do all those things with my daughter & that is the reward worth waiting for.

Until then, find your tribe.

3 things you shouldn't say to a new mom:

1. "It's so worth it."
2. "It gets better."
3. "It's easier with two." (!!!)

Motherhood (7 weeks)

Before I became a mom, I thought I knew what was in store …but I didn’t know. How much emphasis can I put on that statement? I. Did. Not. Know.

I carried my daughter 41 weeks – taking care of myself during that time meant I was taking care of her. I had the best sleep of my life while I was pregnant. I’d sleep 9 hours a night (with the mandatory 3 bathroom trips) and take naps most afternoons. I ate surprisingly healthy (once I was able to eat after the first trimester was over). On Fridays, I started a ritual of walking around Target just browsing the aisles and making “awww” sounds at the adorable baby clothes while sipping a Grande Very Berry Hibiscus – it was exercise & shopping all in one. Two birds – one stone. Friday nights were spent cozy on the couch catching up on DVR.

Fast forward to seven weeks postpartum.

Taking care of myself and taking care of her are two separate things now.

I have not slept more than four hours straight since Haven entered the world. The first cry she let out that filled me with such awe at 9:32PM on September 25th now makes me shrink with fear and exhaustion on any night after 8PM. The sound can be described somewhere between a banshee and a seriously pissed off goat. This is the sounds that states: “You wanted to sleep through the night? Allow me to sing you the song of my people.”

Instead of bathroom trips, I am making trips to rub her back & “shhhh” her back to sleep, or put a pacifier back in her mouth (four times in a row because she spits it out just as my head hits the pillow every.single.time), or change an explosive diaper and soak poop stained PJs in Clorox 2, bleary eyed, at 2AM.

Picture me as the female sleep deprived Edward Norton in Fight Club. Instead of insomnia induced Ikea furniture purchases, I’m looking at an infomercial for the Shark Duo and it looks like a great idea at 4:25AM on a Sunday.

Eating healthy now? I try. It seems my daughter wants to eat as soon as I get my hands on food. I have not yet mastered nursing a ten and a half pound human being in my arms and eating a meal of my own at the same time. I figure I’ll enjoy food again someday. Right now, we are surviving off of crock pot meals. You can gauge what kind of day we had based on if the crock pot is on or if I’m online ordering carside to go.

Fridays are a day of celebration. It means we survived the week. My last post partum trip to Target was to buy accessories for my breast pump. I still “awww” at the baby clothes but now I’m looking at the material wondering how tough it will be to get bodily fluids out of it. Our DVR is getting close to capacity because we can’t stay awake for a full 30 minute show & if we can, it is paused at least 4 times to say things like: “For God’s sake why can’t you keep the pacifier in your mouth?”, or “Do you smell that? Is it coming from her?” or my favorite: “She’s staring at me … oh no, she has that angry look.”

The things I have learned seven weeks in to motherhood:

1. While it seems like two completely separate things, taking care of myself and her are still intertwined. I have to take care of myself in order to be a good and functioning human being/mother. I take the advice of the amazing nurse I had at the hospital & I don’t care what in the world is going on, I shower every single day. Even if it doesn’t feel like I have a minute to spare, I am showering. That is 10 minutes of alone time to think or laugh or cry – whatever I want. I refuse to give that up or I will be giving up my sanity.

2. It is possible to brush your teeth and soothe a wailing newborn at the same time. I said possible, not easy.

3. If the house is a wreck, if there’s a strange smell coming from the trash that should’ve been taken out yesterday, if there’s a phone call I really need to make… …all that will get taken care of when she’s not sleeping. When she sleeps, I sleep. As a rookie (just a few weeks ago), I had the great misfortune of assuming her sleep time should be my time to get things done. My house will still be dirty a couple years from now and I’m okay with that.

4. It’s okay to ask for help. If I have had the thought: “I can’t do this anymore” more than once in a day, I’m calling someone for help. I’m of no use to my daughter when I’m too exhausted (which unfortunately causes me to become super emotional as well). Asking for help doesn’t make you weak – it makes you sane. That old saying “It takes a village to raise a child” - truer words have never been spoken.

5. It is not okay to judge a woman in a store with a screaming baby. I was guilty of that pre-baby. Now I’m ignoring the stares of all those beady judging eyes thinking: “You don’t know the story. The struggle is real.”

6. Don’t compare yourself to other moms. ‘Nuff said.

7. Some days are just really hard. If I start getting sad, I think of something to look forward to. If it’s the early morning hours when childless people across the nation are still snug in their beds there doesn’t seem to be much to look forward to except maybe coffee. So I think about that warm cup of coffee like it’s the answer to everything.

8. Sometimes coffee is the answer to everything.

9. Make time for your partner. There was a night during the third or fourth week after Haven arrived that I looked at Joe and felt like I hadn’t actually looked at him for days. It may only be a couple of minutes, but we take time to focus on each other each day.

10. My husband is my partner. We are a team. Right now we are in survival mode. It is us against Haven. Sometimes she’s winning. Some nights we crawl in to bed, weary & defeated. Other nights we crawl in to bed feeling we won a small victory. Either way, we crawl in that bed together & hold hands until we fall asleep (or until we hear the previously mentioned banshee/goat wail). That is the romance necessary to survive this adjustment.

Things I remind myself on a daily basis:

1. While everything seems like complete and total chaos right now, we’ll find a routine. Life is no longer “normal”, but we’ll find a “new normal”. Like years of BC or AD, I have BH and AH – years “Before Haven” and years “After Haven”.

2. The hardest day can only last 24 hours.

3. You have to find humor at 2AM when your baby refuses to go back to sleep. This could mean playing Samuel L. Jackson’s reading of “Go the F*%! To Sleep”. Whatever gets you through it.

Summary:

1. Take care of yourself – you need your sanity.

2. Sleep every single second you can. Seriously.

3. I’m really serious about #2.

4. Ask for help. It takes a village so ask your tribe for help!

5. Don’t judge other moms & don’t try to be like other moms. We need to support each other, not tear each other down.

6. Coffee. A lot of it.

7. If you are blessed to have a partner in all the chaos, love them & don’t forget about them. Support each other & remember you can’t both be crazy at the same time.

8. If you are down & out & your whole life makes no sense – remember: coffee. A lot of it.

9. If you cannot possibly remember everything in this summary, at least remember #2.

10. See #3.