This Is Harder Than I Thought...

After my first four children were born, I never experienced more than a day or so of "Baby Blues". For the most part, I just didn't "have time" for it, I guess. There was always so much going on, that I literally couldn't stop to worry about hormones and tears even if I'd been so inclined to. Not that I didn't have some weepy moments here and there. Seth wouldn't nurse, and I cried over that. We moved across the country when Grace was 3 weeks old, and I got sick and my asthma kicked in, and I cried over that. The hospital lost Caleb's ID bracelet... and baby pictures... and we had basically no help when he was born, so I was exhausted, and I cried over that (and even threatened to check myself back into the hospital if I didn't get some sleep). Shortly after Ian was born, a friend of mine asked me if I'd had a "blue day", and I remember looking at her like she just told me there was life on Mars, because I don't remember crying about anything when Ian was a baby. All in all... any sadness I experienced with the births of my first four children was very mild, short lived, and generally existed for a good reason. And then came Miah...

I probably should have recognized that there was potential for a very real issue, as my pregnancy came to an end. I was sick for the last two months of my pregnancy, dealing with high blood pressure... and migraine headaches... and a very high heart rate for the baby. I did not sleep well for the last few weeks, and often just went downstairs to the sofa bed around midnight or so and watched TV on my laptop until 5am, when I was usually exhausted enough to pass out for a few hours. I couldn't exercise, and I didn't have the energy to cook healthy meals, so we mostly lived on fast or frozen food (and pizza... and peanut butter eggs (a hazard of being pregnant near Easter)... and cherry coke (which is ridiculous, since I basically gave up pop early in high school, some 15 years ago)). It wasn't a textbook pregnancy, to say the least.

If you've read the account of Miah's birth, you know that it wasn't the easiest delivery ever, either. But I felt alright while we were in the hospital (minus the fact that I got little to no rest there, because there was constantly a nurse coming to check on something, or a medical student coming to learn something, or a visitor (and let me make it clear that we loved having friends come by, and I wouldn't change that at all... it's just that there was never a moment to just sleep)). By the time we got home, I was completely wiped out...

I did sleep that first night home. I don't think my body could continue to function, so it just didn't. Unfortunately, starting with the second night home I returned to my sleepless nights, and they were even worse than before Miah's birth. I just couldn't sleep at all. Since Phil's mom was staying with us to help take care of the kids for a few days (thank goodness), I couldn't go sleep on the sofa bed. I ended up kicking Grace out of her bed and camping out there with Miah for 3 nights. Grace didn't mind so much, as Seth gave her his bed and slept on his floor, which I found very self sacrificing of my oldest son.

I started counting the number of hours of sleep I was getting in every 24 hour period, and including naps, it was coming to 4-6 hours... not enough... and Miah was even sleeping well! On top of this, I was having what amounted to panic attacks over basically nothing. These would start mid-afternoon (around 4:00 or so) and wouldn't let up until morning. If you know me well, you know that I have a tendency to engage in some OCD habits. For the most part, I laugh with my closest friends about these things, and they tend to be mild in reality, but it got pretty bad those first few days home. I could not relax at all, and my mind was constantly running.

And then things got worse...

By the time Phil's mom went home, I had progressed to being very weepy about most everything. For a couple of days, I found myself breaking down in front of my kids at random times. I started feeling like it was necessary to somehow document or record everything about Miah, because she is my last baby and I am never going to get these moments back or have another chance at them. And then in addition to wanting to remember and enjoy every moment, I was getting stressed out about trying to remember and enjoy every moment, making the moments neither memorable nor enjoyable!

At this point I thought, "Oh my gosh, I must have postpartum depression." This brought on a whole new wave of upset and panic, because I didn't want to have postpartum depression, and I certainly didn't want to deal with postpartum depression. And so now I was crying, in essence, about crying... and a whole wave of other things...

There have been a lot of things that have been hitting me really hard. In reality, they are probably not important things, but they are still in the back of my mind, causing me frustration. For example... Miah does not have a nursery. In almost ten years of having babies, I have never managed to paint and decorate a nursery to bring one home to. So, I want to paint a room for Miah and make everything match and have my little dream nursery for my last baby... except I don't have a room...

Another example of frustrating circumstances is that upon arriving home, Ian was sick with some sort of upper respiratory thing. I promptly caught it and had to go on medication for asthma, because I just couldn't breathe. Although I'm off the meds now, this has definitely affected my milk supply, and I am constantly worried that Miah is not getting enough to eat (which is made more troublesome by the fact that she is not pooping... but Ian did that, too). So... for the first time in almost a decade, I have made bottles, and I keep thinking that Miah is not going to want to nurse or be able to nurse for very long, and it's going to be a nightmare like it was when I was trying to nurse Seth. In reality, this is unfounded, because Miah loves to nurse, and she pretty much looks at me like I'm crazy when I stick a bottle in her mouth to supplement, but I wish my milk supply would just hurry up and increase so I can scrap the stupid bottles altogether (and I wish she would poop, too)!

I am having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that Miah already doesn't smell like a newborn anymore... and that she's never going to be all slimy and cheesy again... and that those precious little sounds she makes are only going to last for so long, and our video camera is pretty much worthless. I am frustrated that we didn't get pictures of Phil with my huge, pregnant belly and that I forgot to tape her heartbeat even though I was hooked up to those monitors for hours at a time (I think the ultrasound video will have some sound to it, but I am almost afraid to watch it, because if it doesn't I am going to be disappointed). And here come the tears again, although more manageable than they were in recent days...

I think I'm getting better... But it is not lost on me that everything is going to be different (maybe more intense) with this child...

Please don't misunderstand... I am actually elated about Miah! This sadness has nothing to do with having her. In fact, it is just the opposite. I think this sadness is so intense, because I have already experienced how quickly time flies with four other precious little people. I just wish I could slow it down and really capture every moment. I have been so very blessed, and I don't want to miss a single opportunity to make memories that last.

This is harder than I thought it would be...

Lisa