I started this post in early September, and not it’s October 1st. Yikes. My writing mojo is missing.
Well, yeah. Sorry I haven’t posted… I’ve been busy. Our newest tiny person was born 8/15 (a GIRL – we’ll call her Sweet Baby (SB) for short 7 lb 14 oz of perfection) after 5 days of stop start labor, a transfer to the hospital and another unplanned cesarean. There was A LOT more that happened but that’s not why I’m here today. I’ll post about slaying those dragons later.
I went back to therapy. I had many conversations and texts with my therapist during my long birthing ordeal, she was amazing and helpful and talked me off many ledges. (so did my midwives and my husband and my doula and my friends) But processing the birth wasn’t why I went back to therapy today. Over all I’m doing great. Emotionally I’m surprisingly even keel, I’m back in my pre-pregnancy clothes, and even though I’m only 3 weeks post major surgery, I’m feeling physically pretty damn good and can’t wait to get back to running. Baby #2 is surprisingly easy compared to baby #1. I know what to do with my boobs, and even when i hit a bump with that I didn’t panic but used all my resources and got things figured out. Baby is sleeping, eating, pooping and growing, all like a freaking rock star. BoC is also amazing, taking this big sister gig and showing it who’s boss. She’s tender and loving and incredibly interested in her sister. She is pretty much blowing my mind. Shockingly, I’m doing great considering all the big shit. Honestly, in the 6 weeks since Sweet Baby was born, we have seriously had every plague that hit ancient Egypt. Fortunately I have a fabulous sense of humor, or I might have cut a bitch. I laughed my way through lice, and stomach bugs and gall stones.
And then… someone says something that throws you under the bus. BoC’s former preschool teacher brought dinner to us in the first few weeks postpartum. She was oohing and ahhing over baby when she said “Wow, she’s got quite a schnoz!” (she said this twice, who says a baby has a big nose? WHO???) then she said “She’s so distinct looking, who does she look like?”
Later I was remarking to S2 how the schnoz comment bothered me when he replied “Oh it’s cause she has her nose, the donor, don’t you remember it was broader across the…” and then he stopped because I had burst into tears. I was completely blindsided by it. I did not expect to have my heart ripped out of me because she doesn’t have my nose. I knew it would come up and bite me in the ass, but I guess I didn’t expect it to be so shocking.
I know because of my history of infertility, loss and unplanned cesareans that I’m at a higher risk for postpartum depression, so I’m paying attention to everything. Truth be told, I don’t feel depressed, I have had no anxiety (despite the plagues) and in general I feel great. I’m ready to get back to running and now that I’m almost 7 weeks pp I can. The only thing that I haven’t done, is write. Writing is usually a balm to my soul, it’s usually how I process everything, even before I get into therapy. I wondered if my lack of writing mojo was really because i was depressed, and not just busy. After letting this post sit for a month, and finally revisiting it, I realize that yeah, i was just busy, but also there are no monsters lurking under these feelings. There is a lot bubbling under the surface, but none of it is going to beat me into the corner and rip me from (whats left of my shreds of) emotional stability. I’ve unwillingly joined the ranks of many teams (infertility, birth trauma, autism mom) but I’m pretty sure I’m not getting picked for the PPD team. I count myself incredibly lucky, because I know and love many mamas who haven’t been.
So there it is. She doesn’t look like me, and she never will. But I can guarantee that she is 100% mine, and I love her with more than I ever knew I had in me.