Baby Blues or Postpartum Depression (part 4) The Everyday

So, I was on the third week of having had Kyler, I was still bleeding from the delivery, and still hoping that maybe I was bleeding bad enough to be sent back to the hospital.  Insane right?  We were so exhausted from not getting any sleep.  Kyler would grunt the entire night and we couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him besides the generic “colic” term.  Perhaps he really had colic; but no one was able to help us help him.  Meanwhile, the breastfeeding was such an issue.  I just hated every minute of it.  I hated waking up in the middle of the night and fighting to get him to latch on correctly.  I hated having to be half dressed for most of the day.  I hated how uncomfortable I was when he was feeding. 

Unfortunately, I was still not bonding with my baby.  Kyler was not “cute” by any means, he was so tiny and fragile.  He wasn’t progressing with anything that my friends’ babies were doing.  I was so expecting a gerber baby but had an alien baby.  This is definitely sounding like a pity me party; but in all honesty, it was very real to me.  Selfishly, I just wanted my old life back.  We waited until I was 30 to have a baby so perhaps I had just been independent for too long.  I wanted to feel like me again and not just a milk maker.  Still to this day, I get depressed to hear other mothers with their perfect new babies who slept all the time and never cried.

We were temporarily living in a condo while we waited for our new house to be built so our living situation didn’t help matters. I remember just holding Kyler for hours praying for him to stop crying while my husband was at work.  I would walk in mini circles outside our front door singing lullabyes to him for literally hours at a time.  Tears would just pour down my face.  Maybe I just didn’t know what to do with him.  Maybe if I had another one it would be better because I could do things differently.  At this point though, we’re not taking any chances, one is enough! 

It was so frustrating to not be in control of my life, home, baby, etc.  Our condo was a wreck which was definitely adding to the depression.  As mentioned in other posts, I am a perfectionist and when it comes to clutter and messes…they make me CRAZY!  When you have a newborn, you have clutter and messes- especially when you live in a tiny condo.  The baby gear was everywhere, our dog’s fur was everywhere because I couldn’t vacuum like I wanted, gunk was building up everywhere due to lack of alone time to get it cleaned.  I looked absolutely HORRIBLE.  Fortunately, I DID lose the weight and my body was returning to post pregnancy-ish again.  Sort of.  Jeans and tee shirts still weren’t fitting right but the scale was looking a bit better.  Basically, I didn’t have time to eat and what I did eat was coming right back out in the breastmilk.

My mother in law was truly a lifesaver throughout Kyler’s first few months.  She helped me by keeping him at least once a week.  Thank God!  While he was away,  I wouldn’t rest.   I’d just clean, read baby help books, and eat as much as I could!  I would analyze everything about the way I was taking care of Kyler trying to find a miracle solution to his eating and sleeping issues.  BTW,  I tried all sorts of herbal remedies and gas medicines: Colic Calm, various Little Tummies products, and Mylicon.  None of which were successful.

I felt sorry for myself everyday.  It was weird to be so down…I mean just DOWN.  Why wasn’t I bonding with my baby?  Why was I being so selfish wanting my free time back?  Why did it seem like I was the only one feeling this way?

Baby Blues or Postpartum Depression (Part 2) AT HOME

Talk about exhaustion, chaos, confusion, darkness, sadness….that was me at home with this new little alien that we called Kyler.  Before we left the hospital, the doctors noted that Kyler was a bit jaundiced but released him anyway.  Poor little baby could barely open his eyes due the all the “junk” around them, he was as orange as could be, and just a teeny fragile little thing (about 5 pounds).  At home, everything was in order as far as “baby stuff” goes.  We were anxious to use all of our new gear.  Anxious….ok, nervous….ok, terrified.

So, there I was at home.  What now?  Feed him? Play with him?  (Yes, I thought I was supposed to actually play with my newborn.)  Do I put him in his crib now?  Well, the books I had read spelled it all out for me: eat, activity, sleep, eat, activity, sleep, etc.  OK, not so much.  I found that my arms were in severe cramp mode from carrying Kyler around in the awkward position that I thought was appropriate.   I really wanted to eat or go to the bathroom or GET AWAY pretty much immediately.  I kept trying to feed him but it was an entire procedure because I just couldn’t get comfortable with him.  I’d prop five pillows behind me and, again, awkwardly try to hold him the way I had been taught in order for him to latch on properly.  Milk was just spraying everywhere, Kyler was crying, my back and arms were aching…I hated breastfeeding from this point forward. 

I couldn’t wait for the next day because we were going back to the doctor for Kyler’s checkup and I wanted to get out of the house!  Until then, we had to deal with the night.  My husband tried to help as best as possible; but it was me who was doing the holding and feeding and rocking/swaying.  I remember just crying thinking about how I could never do anything alone again.  It was so hard to do anything because I just couldn’t put the baby down.  He would cry and I did not know how to console him.  I was still feeling tired from the medicine I’d received at the hospital and thank goodness for it.  However, the need and want to sleep was just so strong.  I wanted to die.  I just did not want to be a mother.  At this point, I had no desire to be with my baby at all.  I’m sure that some people may read this and think what a lunatic I was…I truly couldn’t help it!  I hated it!  Unfotunately, I did not feel the love and bond that many others have with their newborn.  What WAS wrong with me???

That night, we just took turns holding him, trying to get him to sleep.  If we set him down, he’d just cry or make this really loud grunting noise.  I fed him every 1-2 hours and hated every minute of it.  Oh, I hated my husband at this point too!  I don’t remember too much more from that night other than I felt sorry for myself and wanted to go back in time.  I counted down the hours until we took Kyler to the doctor so that someone else could help hold him and briefly take me out of this nightmare of a life I was in.

Finally, we made it through the night and to the doctor’s office….GUESS WHAT?!?!  My baby’s jaundice was severe enough to land him back in the hospital overnight.  Crazy as this sounds, I was SO excited until I found out that we would all be staying in the same hospital room overnight.  My husband and I would share a single hospital bed and poor Kyler would lay beside us underneath the “lights” in the incubator type thing.  We were not to pick him up unless I was feeding him which actually did hurt my heart a bit.  Thank goodness, I wasn’t a complete monster.  I did feel sorry for my alien.  I did like the attention and help that we received while in the hospital and again dreaded going home.

More to come…..

Baby Blues or Postpartum depression? (Part 1)

I’d like to write about my experience with postpartum depession.  It may take a few posts to get everything out but I’m at least going to start it.

Let me go back a little over a year ago…Kyler at 3 days old….

In hindsight, maybe I should have known that something was not exactly “OK” when I just DID NOT want to be released from the hospital.  Seriously, I wanted to stay forever.  This alien, as he was known as, slept about 22 hours a day; so what was my problem?  It wasn’t that hard.  Well, the breastfeeding was kind of hard but I was determined.  I promised friends and family that I’d give it a try.   I enjoyed the sessions of help from the nurses- even if I was nude and at the mercy of a stranger.  At least they were telling me what to do.  I was really enjoying the free food which was actually managed like a hotel with room service.  The nurses didn’t exactly “take him” as much as I’d hoped but I was ok with that…I was hip and knew that the baby stays in the room these days.  Changing diapers was a bit of a problem at this point because it was so hard for me to get off the bed and waddle over to the changing table (that I couldn’t reach unless standing on my tippy toes).  So, my husband did most of the changing…bless his heart.  The nurses had that swaddling thing down pat; so Kyler would fall right to sleep after they finished with him.  Come to think about it, of course, I didn’t want to go home!!!  I was being waited on hand and foot and for the most part, so was Kyler. 

I have to say, it did all start when we were packing up to go home.  First of all, let me admit something about myself: I do struggle with a few OCD/perfectionism issues.  And, I didn’t want to get pregnant with fear of getting fat (lame but true).  So, when I tried on my “going home” outfit and my body was completely disproportioned, (and I mean DISPROPORTIONED!), I had the quick realization that I wasn’t going home to the “home” that I once knew.