Darkness. and Light
Imagine...
Having the "perfect birth" but
not feeling connected to your babe
Imagine…
Having lots of
support and help, yet feeling alone
Imagine....
Breastfeeding, the thing every woman is
"supposed to be able to do", being so painful that tears and toe
curling accompany his every cry
Imagine…
So badly wanting
to connect with your new baby, but just not sure how to get there.
Imagine…
The thing that is supposed
to connect, to bond, a mother and her child being the very thing that you hate
Imagine…
6 weeks of
blistered, bleeding, raw nipples
Imagine…
Every time your tired eyes close imagines of
self-harm flood in, Red, but knowing that there is no intention of wanting to
die
Imagine…
Feeling Crazy
Imagine…
Being so Overwhelmed that all you can do is rock
and cry
Imagine…
Being so Exhausted that you can’t see straight
Imagine…
Waking up in the
middle of the night in a panic attacks
Imagine…
A little boy, so
loved, that he laughs in his sleep
Imagine…
Finding refuge in Breath
Imagine…
Finding refuge in Water, in a bathtub
Imagine…
Finding Courage to get support and help
Imagine…
Finding a Determination to live…a perseverance of
wellness
Imagine…
A little boy being
the very thing you
Live for
Breathe for
Grow for
After my community supported, perfect home birth I immediately
went into trauma. I had a lot of swelling and pain. Those first few moments
when a mother and her child are supposed to bond, I was flooded by physical
pain. I looked at him, loved him, but thought “I have waited so long to meet
you, have talked with you every day, yet now you feel like a stranger”.
And then we tried to latch, and a new pain arrived, a pain a worse
than labor in some ways. My nipples were inverted and flat, making a latch very
difficult. I would cringe with every latch. By 48 hours I knew we were in
serious trouble and that I needed help. My nipples were zombie nipples as my
husband so lovingly called them, blistered, bleeding and half gone. My little
son was coughing up blood, my blood, in the middle of the night.
I called a lactation consultant to come to my home. She was a miracle
worker and saved our breastfeeding relationship.
The combination of flat nipples, lip-tie, and a small babe resulted
in 2 bouts of mastitis/thrush, and a depressed mom, despite this help and support
we were receiving.
I told myself just one more feeding,
and feeding by feeding we got through. I would literally say, I will keep breastfeeding till Friday…Today
my son just turned a year and we are still breastfeeding, happily even.
Determination
Perseverance
By week 6 Postpartum Depression was sinking in and I was hitting
my low. All I could do some days was cry. Every time I closed my eyes I saw
red, imagines of cutting, though I have never hurt myself before. And despite
these imagines, I knew at my core I didn’t want to hurt myself or worse die. But
that is where my brain would go. I think a part of me so badly wanted to
escape. I was scared, overwhelmed, and so badly wanted to live all at the same
time.
People would ask me, “how is Lewis”?, and I would think he is
fine, me… I am not ok.
Thank God I had a mother that brought me Starbucks and Friends to
listen. Thank God I was too tired to care what my house looked like. Thank God
my husband was patient.
I got help because I knew it was scarier to live with these
imagines than to tell someone about them. My therapist says I have a determination
for wellness, and I think that determination was stronger than the fear. Turns
out there is a fine line between sleep deprivation and insanity. It is a
miracle that both mothers and babies live through the first 3 months!
Slowly, very Slowly, Things got better. My marriage got better.
I was able to breathe. I was able to feel my feet.
I write this on the eve of my son’s first birthday.
He still nurses and he has the fat roles to prove it.
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