2018

I haven't posted in too long! I keep thinking, I'll find some time soon, and then I never do. So this might be short and disjointed but better than nothing!

Christmas came and went and so did the new year. I was exhausted with all the family gatherings and the super last minute shopping. I was out shopping the 23rd still. It was... Gah. But I was glad to see my brother and he met baby Isaac! They really connected, it was very cute.

I decided to start the new year with a clean financial slate, so I used my savings to pay off the credit cards. I set up to do a new budget for the house and did a frugality challenge for January. I set up to not eat out for a month, which was haaaaard but I made it! I'm working on my savings, which were decimated by 2017 and working for family. I'm taking a class on investing in stocks, and enjoying it! I'm also fully back to work, doing a couple of projects and the consulting thing for the construction company. Which means I can better plan our spending since I have an income again.

Last month was a fraught time while I searched for a preschool for Peanut. Turns out we can't really afford to pay for two preschools. Cookie really wanted a montessori but it was too much, we could not afford to have two kids in any of them in two years. We could barely afford one kid. So.. I visited 8 schools and called a bunch more. It was exhausting. In the end we decided for a mixed method school, it's run by a non profit, so the costs are mostly symbolic. We ended deciding against public school because the classes were packed, but it was our second choice. That consumed a lot of my time and energy last month, and put me and Cookie at odds. He doesn't enjoy talking about money and all of his nephews attend his childhood school, which was the montessori we definitely couldn't afford. My father in law offered to help pay for part of Peanut's tuition there, but that just made things worse...

In any case, I went and signed Peanut up at his new (super hippie) school yesterday. We haven't said anything to my in-laws about it yet and I suspect they won't be thrilled about our choice but I'm happy with the school and we are comfortable with the tuition. And I think that kind of peace is worth a bit of family drama.

My anxiety is quiet for now, though I'm a bit depressed just in general. Cookie and I are a bit disconnected, which makes me sad, but I'm so tired all the time... It's hard to make time for us. He will be out of town for work next week so we'll be apart for Valentine's. It's no big deal but still... I wish we could reconnect and I wish I felt normal and not like I'm barely making it every day.

I know this feeling won't last. Everything is in flux right now. Baby Oz is starting to eat solids, and turning 6 months tomorrow. He's so big, and so happy. We just need to be kind to each other and wait until the kids need us a bit less. It will happen. And I will miss my babies.

Sudden weaning and the mourning of our breastfeeding relationship

Well.

This was a weekend indeed.

Friday night we went to visit our in-laws and only my FIL was around.  When we arrived there was a scrawny white dog outside his house.

You know where this is going.

So Eli and I both make an emotional production about the poor little dog because seriously,  I cannot see a dog in distress at the doorstep and just turn around.  I kept thinking of the Bible,  of all things.  "Whatever you did for one of the last of these brothers and sisters of mine,  you did for me." So we had a family discussion,  in which Cookie was the voice of reason (we can't fit another dog in our house,  or pay for more vet bills,  or take in all the dogs I ever run into)  and I just fell into a hole of despair.

When we left it was raining a lot,  and we couldn't find the dog.  My FIL let us know she had been mounted by several dogs, and I just kept thinking...  She's thin and on the streets and probably pregnant and she'll have her puppies in December out in the cold and gahhh.

So on Saturday Cookie said I should go check if she was still there and pick her up (because he is a darling and he loves me very much).  So I did.

I took her to the vet and she seems mostly okay,  not even too thin,  and I found a lonely tick after checking her thoroughly.  We applied venom for ticks and gave her some meds and brought her home to meet Odin and Lana.  It went...  Okayish.  They haven't gotten quite used to each other and there is no instant love like between Odin and Lana (okay,  more like from Odin to  Lana,  Lana is still not sure she super likes her asshole brother)  but things have been okay.  I had another vet visit today and will take Odin later too for a probable ear infection.  Expensive vet bills and all,  I hope I can spay her and give her up for adoption.

Anyway.

On Sunday we were piled together in bed,  me,  Cookie and the baby,  both my men asleep and me reading for the MBA.  Baby Peanut woke up after napping/nursing for like an hour and got up to take a shower,  and I discovered a tick had bitten me under my arm.  I panicked a bit (I HATE THOSE SHIT BUGS)  and went out of the shower to tell Cookie to check himself and the baby.  We called our doctor and I was prescribed a dose of meds juuuuust in case,  because there's been fatal cases of RMSF in the city.

Shit.

And because of the meds,  I had to stop breastfeeding.

I took the meds last night after putting my baby to sleep at my breast. That was the end.  I am...  So,  so sad.  It's so hard to give this up,  I am not prepared.  I wanted this to be gentle and to slowly drop feedings and...  Now it's over.

In theory we could start over in two days.  But..  I don't think it's fair to him,  to ask him to wean twice.

This was the most difficult,  rewarding,  amazing thing I have ever done.  It was bigger than me,  it was my body doing things I didn't know it could do. It taught me to tune in into the flows of my life and his life as they entwined.

Nine months I carried him. We had seventeen months of being one for brief moments each day. Never again will I be able to sooth and solve all his pains and woes like this. Never again, until we meet after this life, will we be one. It's painful. I am mourning. I have to deny him again and again and explain sweetly that mommy loves him very much, but the milk is gone.

No more sweaty baby sleeping at my breast. No more twinkly eyes and muffles laughs as he sucks and plays with me.

There will be new ways to bond, new experiences. This was bound to happen someday, sooner rather than later. He will always be my baby.

But oh, we will never be one again in this life.

The return of the anxiety monster

It's been a difficult couple of weeks.  This weekend in particular was very draining as work has piled on and gotten very demanding,  with clients that aren't satisfied with the end results and projects that have turned to be huge investments of time,  eating away at any profit that we were going to make.
I have stress dreams and lay awake in the small hours of the morning,  thinking of everything that might go wrong and thinking how I can run away from all the imagined disasters.  I am exhausted,  physically and mentally,  short tempered,  sad,  just about ready to drop all work projects and just stay home with the baby.

The MBA is eating away at the few free hours of the weekend.  I am constantly on,  working or thinking about work,  on the phone or preparing budgets and presentations or driving around and buying whatever we need at the construction site.  This is my job,  I know,  it's not asking anything unexpected of me,  but I can barely hold it together.

Cookie and I are having problems too.  Two weeks ago I was on the verge of leaving.  I managed to calm down and we talked,  mostly about redistribution of house chores,  because I am so tired all the time,  I just need something to be off my plate.  Anything.  But it did get really ugly,  even if it was a very calm conversation,  and he said he was ready to leave too, but he was much more confident in our love than I was.  I have been praying and asking for strength and patience and understanding,  because I do love him, and I don't want us to fail.

I thought I was over PPD and PPA.  Thought I had managed to get past them on my own.  But here we are again,  very much in the same state I was in late November.  Needing help and unsure if I want to medicate.

Baby Peanut is doing great.  He walks and plays and climbs and crawls.  I think he's a bit behind since he really doesn't say anything but mama.  But he signs some and I know he understand a lot,  so I hope his vocabulary grows before it officially becomes a speech delay.  He is gorgeous.  Loves his dogs and gently pets them,  loves to give kisses and hugs,  flirts with all the ladies he sees.  I don't know why I torture myself with work.  I wish I had more time for my baby and a more relaxed life.

I guess I'm the only one that can find the balance,  no matter how hard it might be to say no and drop clients and projects.  Something has to give.

Things my doctor said

You look sad.

I think you have post partum depression and we didn't catch it earlier.

How long has it been,  10 months?  Why didn't you come sooner?

We could give you some antidepressants,  though if you are still breastfeeding...

If you continue to feel bad and you decide to wean the baby,  we can get you on some meds.

----

Soooo. I am not on meds. I don't plan to wean Baby Peanut for a while.  My breastfeeding goal was one year,  and I feel like the worst of the PPD and PPA is mostly over.

I ended up going to the doctor because an unrelated problem.  It seems I might have some sort of allergy and irritation on the lady parts.  Funnnn. If the treatment doesn't work I'm in for some testing,  since it's making our love life pretty much non existent.  Meh. We have had some arguments and lots of guilt and unhappiness in that department.  The doctor says part of the problem is the PPD,  but there is definitely something else going on.  So.

Peanut continues to not sleep,  even worse than before.  Wakes every hour,  every hour and a half.  It's difficult.  Very,  very difficult.  I had stopped the reflux medication but I think we're going to go back to it, and hopefully the sleep will improve.  He's getting better at crawling though!  Still not quite there,  but getting there!

I've been reading a lot about sleep.  It's not helping to improve his sleep,  but it's very interesting and I think it's helping me to cope,  at least.  He'll sleep when he sleeps,  I guess!

The little things

The hardest part of depression right now is my inability to cope with even the smallest of problems. I will be fine for days and then a minor bump juat sends me into paralized fear and anxiety attacks, nightmares and breakdowns. I feel ridiculous, and it's mortifying, knowing people can see how absurd my breakdown is. Cookie is handling things (me) as gently as he can, but I know he's way out of his depth.

Last night baby Peanut bit me twice while he was nursing, after a rough day at work. He was very fussy and difficult, and I lost it. I went to our room to scream into the pillow, then tried to nurse him to sleep when I calmed down, but he just wanted to play. Cookie settled him in the crib and he just started to cry like sixty seconds later. I broke down and cried, big ugly sobs of woe is me. I was so tired and cold and I just needed someone to take over. Which I think might even be normal, except I feel like that about my whole life. I wish someone would take over.

My phone fell on Christmas Eve and the screen shattered. It has been acting up and making my life a little bit harder. I am not dealing with that very well. After the total breakdown of last night Cookie started to search for a new phone or a way to change the screen on this one. And I have to say, just that gesture made me feel better. Like, if he's taking care of that (of me) then I can.. Do the rest? Maybe?

I admit I've been having thoughts of death more often than before. I kind of always have had them, in the back of my mind, and they come to the surface now and then. I quickly forget they were there after a little while. Last night they had their moment, front and center. I had completely forgotten bout them until just now. That might be a good thing? At least they are not pervasive?

I hate the winter cold. It makes everything so much harder. I don't feel like I had much of a break over the holidays, with all the frantic last minute shopping and work and all the gatherings. I hope January gets me a few days to recharge, then everything will (probably) be better.

Frayed at the edges

I guess there are only so many posts I can make about being depressed and dealing with the waves of anxiety that keep throwing me off balance, but here is one more.

The holidays are always a taxing time for me. Seeing so much family and meeting friends and going to Christmas' parties (which I bypassed entirely this year) usually means that by December 26th I'm really frayed at the edges. By the end of the year I am on the verge of screaming. I don't have much time to recharge and it's cold and I know it sounds so ungrateful, like, ugh, I have all this *family* and *friends*, but it's not that! I love seeing them, but my energy levels just plummet as the season progresses.

Add baby Peanut to the mix and our household is hella tired, including the baby. He's missing naps and going really late to bed and missing baths and his meds for the reflux and too excited to eat and skipping meals, getting up early to meet people, so many new uncles and aunts! So much love! It's awesome and I am so happy that he got to meet pretty much everybody, and that they met him and had a chance of spending time with him one on one. It's been awesome! And exhausting!

Tomorrow I'm starting the house addition I didn't want to start during Christmas' week. I don't want to start it tomorrow either. I took on another project for a facade as well. I don't know how to stop! I don't want to have so much work right now, but I don't think I can outright stop working. I feel overwhelmed and anxious and stressed, as is the usual lately.

A friend had a c-section last Monday. I am really glad that everything went really well, specially because she lost a baby last year. We were pregnant together for a while. She seems to be doing so well, she's so happy and seems so relaxed! I... I am envious of how quickly she bonded with her baby, of how together she seems. I feel like I'm falling to pieces while she breezes through the first week post partum. Of course I'm glad for her! I don't wish PPD/PPA on anyone. I wish I was more together, though.

I dropped my phone on Christmas Eve and broke the display. This has been one really expensive December. But, on the bright side, I saw all of my college friends this week. I had breakfast/lunch/dinner with them, and I saw Cookie's college friends as well. It was awesome. I felt loved and comfortable and laughed a lot. I am thankful. Here's to good friends, family, and a healthier 2016.

More goodbyes

My architecture students did their last exam today. I graded final projects and exams and gave them a last goodbye. Tomorrow, if I can finish filling out paperwork and grading, will be my last day at both schools, and even then it's just turning in grades.

So, more or less, it is over.

I tried to be inspiring and give some good advice. I tried as I could, given my mental state, to be fair and give them my best. I find myself feeling sorry I wasn't a better teacher. It was a disservice to my students. I wish I could talk to myself back in June, or July. Tell her that she was allowed to say no.

I am going to work on that, saying no. No to all the things that aren't adding to my life, that aren't fulfilling, that aren't needed. I need to say no to people, no to friends that are not looking out for me. I need to say no, and let go of things, and move on. Close doors and then forget about them, instead of wondering what was behind them.

Yesterday I took Elias to a photoshoot. I decided to buy one on an impulse, and I ended up not planning anything special for it. He was adorable and well behaved and I enjoyed the moment a lot. We took some pics of him breasfeeding, and I'm really looking forward to seeing them. He has been such a gift. He is teaching me so, so much, it's such a cliche. But he is an amazing teacher.

I finish my teaching season feeling less than amazing, definitely humbled, but proud that I honored my commitment and that in the process, I learned more about myself than what I managed to teach. I hope at least some of that awareness shone through my depression and they got something out of it.

Two steps forward, one step back

I was feeling really good and optimistic on Friday. We had a end of year lunch with all the students and I was really emotional about the first generation graduating from our program. I felt elated, proud. Capable.

Why was I giving up school, anyway? Post partum depression? Me? Nah, it had been the sleep deprivation, that was all, now that I was sleeping better I felt really good!

Saturday came and out of nowhere, without reason, despite adequate sleep... I'm barely able to function. Anxiety attacks and being at the verge of tears over everything, tired as hell, angry, feeling hopeless. What the hell happened?

---

I started this post yesterday morning. I managed to get some work and errands done, but still a lot is left to do. Now that I opened up about the PPD to some people, they are now asking if I'm taking medications and pushing/advicing I quit breastfeeding to take care of myself. Argggg.

Work hasn't let up -I took on a design project that is kicking my ass, and I'm remodeling a bathroom in my parents house on the side (with all the Dealing With My Dad As A Client that it entails), Mrs. T and H&C's houses are still ongoing and I have a very long overdue project for a recurrent client. I also owe Mrs. Prado some table cloths and Christmas decorations she ordered from my side business with Pam. Now, none of these things should take that long to finish, not really. But I can't seem to get them done, and that inhability is driving me insane. No matter how much I run around there's always more than half of my to-do list left at the end of the day.

This Saturday I went to K's house to replace the lamp shade and see if I could figure out why it wasn't turning on.

The lightbulb was out.

I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Clients, man, I don't know.  Are they functioning adults?

Am I? I can't deal with anything going slightly off program, let alone actual problems or arguments of any kind.

I need to shake this off. I just need to figure out how.

Last day of school

First, good news: my friend from school who had an aneurysm is improving. She's awake and talking and even sent a few texts to the school group. Which I think is amazing! I am so, so happy! At school we have gotten some activities done on her behalf, to help pay for the bills, and my 7th semester students rallied together after I asked them to help me organize an activity, and they really, really touched my heart. They are a group a wonderfully caring kids, I m really glad I got to see them work together like this before the school year ends.

On that note, this is the last day of classes! I am soooo grateful this is almost over. Next week we have exams, and at the other school I have two weeks left. But this is it. I made it. Anxiety, stress, sleeplessness, depression, I made it through one trying semester. Not as the best teacher I can be, not with the results I would usually wish for, not proud of all my decisions, but I Made It. I am taking a bow and retiring from teaching for a while, and it's bitter sweet, because I love so much about it. The look of interest, that bright eyed look when something clicks, their pride in their work when it's well done, the rush of adrenaline when I'm loving what I'm doing and I feel like I'm making a difference. But the other parts, the ones I don't care for, those have become too difficult right now to deal with.

I have an impossible time trying to not take it personally when they don't pay attention. When the work they deliver it's shit. When they ignore me, lie to me, whine and complain every step of the way. Dealing with The Powers That Be, trying to justify my poor results when I'm trying my best and the students just don't care. Having one group working great and one doing crap, unsure of what I'm doing wrong. Wasting time and energy, when they are just too tired/overwhelmed to listed to me, work with me, engage with me. Perhaps I was putting too much emphasis on Me, and not enough on what they can do by themselves. I felt like I tried everything I knew, and failed them. At this point of my life, when my own balance is so, so brittle, I can't afford to fail others because I don't have energy to spare trying to snatch victory from defeat.

The game is over, for now. I feel very relieved.

Elias is teething, again. Sort of? Last time the third tooth never came in, so it looks like we're dealing with it again. It's been a couple of rough days, where all he wants is to nurse and be held and cry. Poor baby Peanut. I really want to be there for him more. He's now mobile, not crawling but rolling from back to tummy to back to tummy as means of transportation. He is a delight, always laughing, giving hugs, shakily waving hello.

He wakes up in our bed, with sleepy eyes and damp hair. He turns to me and smiles. He lifts one chubby hand, and slowly waves hello.

Hello, baby. School is over. We can stay in bed a little while.

We are five weeks away from the end of the semester. One of those weeks is finals so I keep telling myself I just have to make it through another month without blowing up, and we'll be done. My students aren't helping much, though, whining and complaining every step of the way. I know I have been doing much of the same, but I feel like I'm gritting my teeth through every class with them, I see no glimmers of passion or interest. I brings me down, specially giving that it's my favorite subject to teach, Lanscaping. But I just feel like the biggest nerd, super excited about permaculture and companion planting and rain gardens and everyone looking like ughh, when will she let it go? And there's few creatures better than a 19 year old at throwing disdainful looks. It shouldn't matter to me! I'm an adult! Right? ...it definitely gets to me, though.

I am dreading talking with the department heads at both schools to let them know I'm quitting. I know both will try to convince me not to, for different reasons, and they can be really pushy (which is how I ended with so many hours this semester). It's hard because, in theory, I love my classes. I love teaching. I loved teaching? I am not sure I have it in me anymore, though. I do know I need to take some time to work on my mental health. Which is the speech I'm working on, because it would be a shit thing to tell a teacher you neeed them to work regardless of their mental health, right?

A friend of mine went through PPD and is encouraging me to make an appointment with her psychiatrist. I keep thinking about it but not doing anything. I feel like, if I can find some time for myself, some of the anxiety will go away. So I think I'm going to give myself until January, see if I feel better or not, before going to a doctor for meds. By then I think I'll know for sure if I can work through this on my own. I do feel a bit more stable these days -we're back at having some sort of sleeping routine, so even if Peanut wakes 5/6 times a night, I'm sleeping better- but I'm usually exhausted and Cookie suffers for it. It's hard to not be resentful of his freedom. But I have talked about it a bit with him, and it helped, and he's trying to have us tag along with him more. Even if it's not freedom, at least is something of a social life, which is more than what I had.

Baby Peanut is beginning to be able to stay ib a sitting position for a short time, which xan be fun. He's a super happy and smiley baby. I love his silly face :3

Rope's end

On Friday morning the dogs would not stay inside while I tried to go out to open the fence so we could take out our cars and Cookie could leave for work. The neighbors' dog was outside and our dogs wanted ouuuttt they wanted to bark and run and ouuuuttt and I had had a terrible night and the baby was crying inside and so I headed for the garden hose to scare the dogs into the house with some water. He stopped me, told me he knew I was angry but there was no reason to be mean to them. The dogs ran inside anyway the moment they saw me head for the hose, anyway. I said goodbye to him, with tears in my eyes, and I said it. "You don't understand."

----

I went out to work on Saturday and he stayed home wih the baby. My friend P picked me up, and when we arrived to K's house we found out her old lab Sophie was agonizing. We sat with them for a while, chatted with K's mom, petted the poor old thing -we've been working there for 6 months, I loved that dog- and P suggested we return later to do what were going to do, to give them some privacy.

We went to the other site, dealt with things there and headed back to my place. We ended up talking about our kids and our husbands for about an hour, just parked outside. When I went in, Cookie was pissed. "You could have come inside," he said. "This is not easy. I could have used a break."

He had the baby from 10 to 12:45. I just stared at him in disbelief. I'm sorry, I said. I don't know what else to tell you. He said it felt like I just didn't want to come in.

Can you blame me? I asked him. I said I wished I could have a break from the baby that wasn't me going to class or to work. "You were outside for an hour. You could have come in for tea or something. Given me a 15 minute break."

I didn't know what to say. I wondered if he could listed to himself.

He took a shower. I fed the baby.

I got angry. Angrier. I realized I never showered that morning, so I did. Took my time. So angry. Then it all turned to ashes. Sad. So tired. So ready to flee, to be done with everything.

The day got grayer and grayer, my mind slowing down to a halt.

K messaged me. Sophie had finally died. Where had I buried Max last February?

I took a nap while the baby ate. Woke up. He was playing on the computer, never said anything about lunch or supper. Eventually I gave up and cooked. I knew he was worried about me, perhaps maybe even a bit sorry for being angry at noon, but I didn't care. I couldn't muster energy to do anything. I wanted to sleep more than anything but I couldn't fall asleep for another nap.

I downloaded Ferber's book, How to solve your child's sleep problems, read the first four chapters. I don't like CIO methods, even controlled crying and gradual extintion sounds like too much for me, but I was ready to try anything. I needed sleep, and Cookie had previously been on my case about sleep training.

Baby Peanut cried for 45 minutes before falling asleep on his own, gradual extintion not feeling gentle at all. I wanted to die. I told Cookie as much. "Is there any rule in the book about quitting after an hour and just holding your baby and telling him you love him?" he asked. No. No such rule. The crying was killing us. He slept for only 40 minutes, and then we were back to wanting to eat to fall asleep.

My back hurts so much from picking him up and putting him down every hour or two. I gave up in the middle of the night, screw Ferber, I can't do it like this. Not while I'm this sleep deprived and tired.

We had an awful night, worst than the one before, I think.

But somehow I feel better, the weight of his words is finally slipping off me. He was right. In his own way, maybe he does understand. A 15 minute break would be nice.

One day closer to still not being done

The pergola at K's house got delayed again, but I'm crossing my fingers and hoping tomorrow will be the day. Today they were running late and I had to leave the keys to my partner, who couldn't meet them when they were finally ready and they didn't want to wait for her for an hour, so they rescheduled the installation for tomorrow.

The electrician fiiiinally made it to L's backyard, the other unfinished renovation, but after taking a look at the light s
witch a drizzle started to fall, so he rescheduled for tomorrow as well.

No one showed up at H&C's entryway construction today. It happens some mondays.

I did manage to prepare class and make it to my classes, so at least that's something! 9 more weeks! I am dreading informing both schools that I won't be returning next semester. I know the Design school will be short of teachers next January, so I think they expected me to take on more classes, not to step down, but I don't think my mind is in the right place right now for teaching.

I don't feel patient or inspiring, I don't feel particularly passionate about my classes or my job. I don't have much time to prepare classes or grade. And the running around trying to make it to the campuses at a set time regardless of the baby or whatever disaster of the week crops at the construction is driving me crazy.  I will miss some things, some of my students and the joy of talking about the subjects I really like. I love learning new things and passing them on. I love helping students when they are feeling low or conflicted. I will miss the academic feel, the contrast of the mental and emotional challenge of teaching with the physicial and practical challenge of construction. And I will miss the steady pay, the call of the siren for the freelancer in this unsteady economy.

I was very sad last December when I figured out I would not be hired in January because of my upcoming due date. I mourned the loss of that aspect of me, unsure if they would rehire me this Summer. It never crossed my mind that coming back was a mistake. The set is over and I'm half heartedly singing an encore. I hope I'll have a chance to teach again in the future, but for now I'm ready for the semester to be over.

The guilt of the (not instant) bond

I had a few very neurotic weeks before baby Peanut was born. I should probably post his birth story at some point, but in short, we had what looked like a big baby with a huge head ("but it doesn't look like hydrocephalus!" said my doctor, cheerfully, scaring the crap out of me), not a lot of fluid left and a baby that would not engage my pelvis. So at 39w1d I was induced (though labor had started the night before on its own, really slowly) and my water broke at 1:20 pm, stained with meconium. A c-section followed and at 2:22 baby Peanut was born.

I remember many things about the operating table. Cookie was not feeling very well looking at the gory show. I was staaaarving. The cap kept falling over my eyes and Cookie and a nurse kept pulling it back. Being tied like Christ at the cross (that was super unnerving!). Chatting with the doctors. Then the pressure on my chest, the pulling and the weird feeling of a crowbar trying to dislodge the baby. Then the cries, the chaos of Cookie taking (notttt alloweeeddd) pics, missing the APGAR score, then the ped quickly showing the baby to me and shoving him close to my face. I was pretty confused as to what he wanted me to do then, so I kissed the baby's face hoping that's what he expected.

And that's the thing. I did it because I thought that's what *he* expected, not out of a huge rush of emotions and love and relief or any of the things I expected to feel. In fact, I felt... Hungry. That was it. They took the baby away, Cookie left with the ped, and the doctors kept chatting while they closed me up, and I felt impatient. It took them about an hour to finish, then another hour in recovery listening to my anesthesiologist chat with the nurses and eat lunch and take a nap, while I lay there willing the epi to wearoffwearoffWEAROFFFF I'm starvingggg. I wanted to see the baby, of course, but mostly I wanted to see Cookie and talk with him and not be in recovery. 

We stayed at the hospital for two nights, and I think the endless influx of visitors certainly didn't help me to bond with the baby. I kept waiting for that feeling I had read about to wash over me, that sudden engulfing wave of love to take me over and I felt... Determined. To give this baby my best. To recover quickly. To keep my sanity. 

The first 8 weeks after the birth or so, I knew there was something wrong with how I felt. I read that not all moms bond with their baby instantly, and I held on to that, giving myself time. But I felt a profound disconnections between my pregnancy and my baby. I don't know if it was the c-section, or if it was my brain's way of protecting me from my fear at the time: I had wanted a natural birth and I cried as they wheeled me to the operating room, not from the loss of the natural experience -or at least not just because of that- but out of fear of the procedure itself. I was afraid of dying on the table or that something had already happened to the baby. So maybe my brain decided that nope, this was unrelated! To anything! And the birth was just not-related-to-the-baby. I'm not sure this makes sense. But Cookie kept telling me, with his eyes full of love and tenderness, that the baby loved me, couldn't I see how he looked at me, how he calmed as soon as I held him? And I was almost robotic. "The baby knows he needs me to survive, babe. That's all. I wouldn't call that love." Or, "I don't think he's conscious enough to *feel* things, you know." 

I cringe just thinking about it. I wish I had fallen head over heels for him, instead of that robotic-duty thing I had going on. I took care of the baby, I was patient as I had never been in my life, but it was so so hard. I was tired, but I also felt disconnected. Someone had cheated me of the motherly love I was promised. I hadn't had the most, ahem, excited attitude towards the miracleee of lifeeee during pregnancy, what with all the pregnancy weird stuff, so I guess I had somewhat brought this on myself. But it was sad. 

I think it took about 3 months for me to finally feel like hey, I have bonded with the baby! I love him! And I think he loves me back! Not a sudden rush, not the breaking of a wave over me. More like the slow, steady rise of the tide. At some point, almost without noticing, I was submerged. I wish I could have felt this way from the start, since the moment the doctor put his face near mine to kiss and cherish right after he was born. But he just woke up while I was writing this post, squawking and fussing because ughh being awake is the worstttt, and I picked him up and he's sleeping on my chest. And I'm smiling. 

I love you baby Peanut. I'm sorry I was too scared to figure it out from the start.