Clear Eyes Full Heart

I distinctly remember after having Wren, being in a state of absolute post baby bliss. I was just euphoric over her presence. She nursed so well, slept like a champ, and the transition from two kids to three was effortless and enjoyable.

Annika is a month old today and the first time I remember not feeling like myself after her birth was that first night home from the hospital. She was swaddled in her cradle, safe and asleep right next to my head. I went from sound asleep to wide awake in a second and I just KNEW she wasn't breathing. I wasn't in a panic or anything. It was very matter of fact. I was going to pick her up and she wouldn't be breathing. Of course, I scooped her out of bed and she was perfectly fine. Asleep in that peaceful newborn way that covers you in a blanket of calm. I looked at the clock and realized I had only been asleep for 15 minutes.

This whole process continued for days. I would sleep hard for short intervals, and wake convinced something had happened to Annie. If I tried to sleep while holding her, I'd wake and immediately think she had smothered.

When she was about a week old I started feeling anxious about housework. I've never been the neatest person (shout out to all my college roommates, sorry guys) but I would be sitting nursing the baby and be CONSUMED with the need to vacuum. Right. Now. I would be playing with the kids and thinking about the three dishes in the sink, the laundry I had to fold, the bathroom that should be wiped down. On and on until I got up and tended to the tasks, or just broke down. The kids would ask for a drink and I would just sob, absolute gut wrenching sobs. I kept telling Andy I was overwhelmed. Of course I'm overwhelmed, I just gave birth, I have four kids under 5, I'm not sleeping.

This was different than all that. This was a cocoon of a worry, a cloud of anxiety just seeping into every pore.

At Annie's one week check up, she hadn't gained weight. A few days later she lost weight. I felt vindicated. THIS is why I'm so stressed out. My mommy intuition had kicked in and told me something was wrong. We'll fatten this baby up and everything will be better.

Except now I had something else to fixate on. When Annika was asleep, I'd think about how I should be feeding her, or pumping. When I was nursing her, I'd be thinking about all the other things I should be doing until my skin would crawl and I would jump up to vacuum.

I had a three week postpartum check up with my OB. The nurse went through a list of questions, how's breastfeeding? Are you having any pain? How do you feel emotionally?
I said, "I won't lie to you. I'm feeling like a hot mess" and I broke down. I sobbed. And then I talked. I kept repeating, "I just don't feel like myself". I think I said it about 6 times in the conversation.

Then, something I needed so bad happened. She validated my feelings. She acknowledged that this was different than the daily overwhelming feelings of motherhood and life. That this wasn't sleep deprivation. This wasn't because I could handle three kids but four of them was just too much. This was chemical, hormonal, physical, and here's a plan to help you feel better.

I've been on a low dose of Zoloft for a week now, and although I'm certainly not claiming to be "cured", I feel MUCH better. The feelings of anxiety and overwhelming moments are still there, but I handle them. I'm not consumed or overtaken by them. I can look at my stresses with clear eyes.

I feel absolute zero shame in taking medication. In fact, today, per my doctor, I increased my dosage. Andy asked me how I felt about doing that and I said, "I want to feel better" and for me, it's as simple as that.

I guess that's why I'm writing this. I spent some time reading articles and blogs and personal stories of postpartum anxiety. It has been really comforting knowing I'm not the only one. I'm not less of a mother, wife, or person because I'm experiencing this. I've never understood the way mental health is stigmatized. I want to be the best person I can be, for my family and even more importantly, for me. If I need help getting there, I'm going to take it.

Annie has slowly started gaining weight, and I'm slowly feeling like I can enjoy ALL the moments with her instead of being overwhelmed by them.

She's my last baby and I deserve the same bliss with her as I had with my other three. I mean, look at this face. If that's not bliss I don't know what is.