If I thought time moved fast before, I was sorely mistaken. Now that I am back in action at the office a few days a week time is really flying. It has been a bit of an adjustment, though. Over the course of the past year, I had only been going into the office for meetings every week or two. Now I am in three days a week, every week. Before, we could rely on our family and friends to take care of Jackson, but now, while we are very blessed to have Zac’s parents helping us out a great deal, we also had to put Jackson in daycare at least once a week. Jackson cries every time he is there (more on that later), and I miss my boy all day.
While the whole daycare thing is really tough on me, getting back into the office has been really reallygood for me. I haven’t talked much about my feelings here, other than the happy ones. I just feel like this is an account for Jackson to have of his childhood, and I want him to always know that he is loved beyond belief, and always has been wanted and cherished. I definitely don’t want to tarnish that with my own internal struggles. At the urging of one of my greatest friends (literally the only person I have spoken with about these feelings at length), I am going to write a bit about it, because it’s real, and it’s there, and writing helps…
When I finally gave birth, it was such a mix of emotions (hello crazy hormones!). Of course I was OVER THE MOON and completely in awe of the perfect human we created, but also, the baby blues set in. I would cry at the mention of work, daycare, or anything of the sort. I would cry sometimes when we had a particularly rough night, and if I imagined that Zac looked at me the wrong way. I expected all of that. “they” say that the baby blues last for about six weeks. I patiently waited them out, but the feelings of dread didn’t ever really go away. I was terrified that something would happen to my baby. I have struggled with anxiety in the past. My sister sent me this photo recently and said it reminded her of me:
…you get the idea. The dreadful feeling was certainly bearable, I have known the feeling of impending doom for years. What was harder for me can be summed up in two parts: frustration and loneliness. I was so hard on Zac. Harping at him because he “didn’t help me with anything” one minute, while in the same breath thanking him for working so hard so that I can be home with Jackson. Telling him that he can’t reallydo that much because I was nursing, and he was at work all day, so he deserved to relax in the evenings. When he did jump in and bathe Jackson, dress him, feed him, or anything else, I was a freak. I would stand there, staring over his shoulder worrying that he was going to break him or “do it wrong.” What the hell is wrong with me?! He was doing exactly what I had just bitched at him about, and I was practically snatching the baby away because I thought I could do it faster or better. He didn’t deserve that sort of treatment, and I knew it. Eventually I backed off, let him take care of Jackson, and realized that of COURSE he knows what he is doing. I could leave to run errands and when I came back Jackson was always happy, healthy, and most importantly in one piece. I learned to let go.
I distinctly remember one evening when Jackson was about 3 months old. It was late and I was trying to get him to sleep. I would nurse him until he was completely asleep – in a deep sleep. I would try to place him in his crib, and he would immediately scream. This went on for 3 hours. He was far too young to be sleep trained, so there would definitely not be any “crying it out” or other method that we parents use to get our child to sleep. I grew frustrated and so upset that one time when Zac came to see if he could help, he found me in hysterics, sobbing. Immediately he took Jackson and urged me to go take a bath. It helped, but I still felt awful. Why couldn’t I take care of my baby? He is myson.I am hismother.If anyone should know how to take care of him, it would be me. What was I doing wrong? I cried throughout the entire two hour bath, and then I realized just how sad I had been. I also felt guilty. I am so lucky to have this tiny creature. People try for years and never are blessed with children. Why was I being so hard on myself? The guilt made me even more depressed.
While being frustrated sucks, and certainly brings on strong feelings of guilt, the loneliness was harder for me. When Jackson was born, tons of people rushed to see him for the first few weeks. We always had people around, and it was great, showing off my perfect new baby to the world. But after the novelty wore off, my days were in sharp contrast to what they had been. I was at home with Jackson – alone. I love every single minutethat I get to spend with him. I really do. But trust me when I tell you that not having a single person over the age of 1 to talk to can really take its toll. I felt like my friends had disappeared. As if because I had a baby now I was purposefully left out. I know this isn’t true. Friends would do one of two things: they would either assume that I didn’t want to be included because I had a baby, or they would try to include me but I would stay home for one of my million reasons (I am nursing, so I can’t leave him. I am tired, I was up all night. I don’t want to leave him. I have too much to do. The list goes on..) In any case it was lonely. The most intense loneliness I have ever felt. I can’t even put it into words. It has been there since around May 2011, and still has yet to completely subside. And I feel guilty. How dare I feel lonely? I have Jackson with me all the time, and he is a person. A real, live, breathing, talking, walking person. I purposefully cut myself out of social situations. It’s my fault I am lonely…but it doesn’t make it one bit easier. I would sit on the couch after everyone was asleep and I just cry. I wonder why my friends don’t call me as much as I think they should. Rationally, I know they have lives that do not, in fact, revolve around me. They have jobs, and families of their own. But I will be the first to tell you that nothing about this situation is rational. I cope by trying to become numb.
The guilt is so heavy. I often feel as if I am being pulled underwater, fighting as hard as I can to stay afloat. And I feel guilty. And I amashamed that I feel guilty. There is something wrong with the fact that mothers have these feelings, but can’t voice them and talk about them out of guilt. We think that everything should be rainbows and butterflies all the time, so we don’t dare speak up or try to fix the problem when we realize that unicorns aren’t prancing through fields of daisies all the time. We have a baby, a beautiful, perfect baby. How dare I have the audacity to even begin to feel unfulfilled in any way?
Going back to work has helped me so much. I sacrifice time with my son, and that hurts, but I spend time with my colleagues, all of which I adore. I sit in my office, and I use my brain for things. I have alone-time while I sit in the dreadful traffic that is the DC area. I have the opportunity to miss my baby intensely. I feel again. I am happier. Oh and that dreadful loneliness? It is far less lonely in my world than it was a month ago, and for that I am grateful.
I guess I don’t really have much advice coming out of this, but I needed to get it out there. I guess I could say that there are a few things you can do to ease the burden: ask for help, make plans to get out of the house, and cry if you want to. This situation has been preventing me from writing anything of substance for months, out of fear that I can’t come across as perfect enough. Life is imperfect, we are flawed, and we are allowed to feel whatever we feel and for whatever reason. For me personally, the days ahead are looking brighter than before.
I want to stress again that while there has been a mix of frustration, loneliness, guilt, and sadness in the past year (who hasn’t had some of that anyway), there has been happiness, love, and pure unbridled joy in every single day. Words can do no justice to the love and happiness that Jackson has brought into my life and my heart, and honestly, I have no idea how I ever existed without him.
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