But I need to. I know I need to. I know it will be good for me, and could be good for others. I've been avoiding it for months, for lots of reasons. I'm afraid of what people will think; it's like inviting feedback from random people when you write a blog, and feedback can be scary. I'm not sure I'll get it all out, or say it all right, say it the way I want to. Most of all, I know I still have days when I struggle with it, and it's so much harder to write about current struggles than things you've totally gotten over. I mean, who wants to share with the world your most personal struggles? Not many people that I know of, and I would include myself in that list.
But, I do feel it's important. I know when I was in the thick of postpartum depression, I desperately wanted someone, anyone to understand how I felt; what I was going through. It's not something people just bring up in conversation: "Hey, I'm Alisha. I have a 4 month old and am seeing a counselor for postpartum depression. How are you? Want to get coffee?" I found some good resources and groups online that made me feel not quite so alone, but it's still not quite the same as 'real' people, you know? So, my prayer is that in writing this, it's not a foreboding or discouraging thing, but an encouragement to someone who may need to read about real life, and that it's OK to struggle, and there are people who get it. (re: 2 Corinthians 1:3-7)
And that is a good starting point for talking about this. The alone feeling. You are completely convinced that no one understands how you're feeling, and if they did, would think you were crazy. Logically, even at the time, I thought that sounded so self-centered/woe-is-me, but still, it seemed like reality. And if I were to get up the nerve to talk about it, to share what I was truly thinking and feeling, what in the world would people think of me? Things like I wanted to just run away some days, or that I would actually get angry at my baby, or that I woke up every morning with a feeling of fear, dread and anxiety - my shoulders would immediately tense before my feet even hit the floor. I was afraid that most moms would look at me like I was some kind of horrible person that needed to have my child taken away.
It started with that, that totally helpless, alone feeling. Then, the negative thoughts came in. 'Why is this so hard?' 'I seem to be having a harder time adjusting than most moms I know.' 'I don't feel like I'm enjoying this.' 'I must be doing something wrong.' 'Every time I leave him with someone they tell me how great he was. He's not great at home. Or maybe it's just me.' And on, and on, and on. It's cyclical. The more you hear these negative thoughts, the more you believe them, the more they seem like truth, and the more alone you feel, so you just shut others out and stay in your head with these thoughts. And it spirals, and you're all of a sudden to the point where you're so overwhelmed you don't know how to get out.
Things like just taking a shower, or going to Target, or making dinner or cleaning seem so overwhelming that you don't know where to start, so you just don't do them. Or, if you're incredibly blessed, your husband makes you do things like take a shower and holds the crying baby for a few minutes, and for a few minutes, you start to feel better...until you start thinking again. 'Why can't I do this?' 'Most moms don't have a lot of help from their husbands and they figure it out. Why can't I?' 'I should be able to do this.'
Shoulds. That's where it really was/is for me. I remember very vividly the day I called the counseling office. It was one of my 2 days/week at home...one of the 2 days/week I dreaded, if we're being honest. At work, I knew what to do, could get things done and was comfortable. At home, I was anything but. So, that Thursday, as I literally sat in our living room sobbing my eyes out at nothing in particular but everything all at once, I realized I needed help. I texted Jim and told him and he simply said 'OK.' That's really all he needed to say; it was enough to tell me I had his support.
Gosh, I was so nervous the first day I went to the counselor. I tried to act all cool and friendly and professional. At work, I have to market quite frequently, so I can do a good professional face when I need to. But it didn't last long. He asked me to tell him what I was feeling, specifically, about me, about motherhood, toward Graham. That last one got me. When I verbally said that sometimes, he annoyed me, or I was mad at him - a small, helpless baby - I just lost it. And you know what my counselor did? He handed me a Kleenex, said it was OK, and before I left, prayed for me. And I knew that, at that moment, God had definitely led me to the right person.
Without going into all the details of my counseling sessions, basically, I had to learn to re-train my thoughts. I would write down a thought I had, for example: "Everyone seems to handle motherhood better than me." Then, I would think of a few things that would negate that statement: 'Everyone' is overgeneralizing.' 'I only see parts of other people's lives; I don't know what they're thinking/feeling.' 'This is a huge life change, and huge life changes take time to get used to.' I would then go one further, and combat it with its exact opposite, with things that were undoubtedly true: 'God ordained me to be his mother.' 'I know his quirks, his needs, his cues better than anyone.' 'No one could be a better mother to Graham than I am; God sovereignly chose him to be part of our family, and not anyone else's'. I think you get the picture.
It was a long road, one that I'm still on, really. This week? This week's been rough. I'm not entirely sure why; hormones maybe. Jim's been working later a lot. Graham has had some reflux issues. But that tenseness, that anxiety in the mornings, that irritability, that sense of being so overwhelmed I'm not sure where to start...it's been there, much more often than I would like to admit. But, God does give enough grace, and daily I am sustained.
I can say I truly love being a mother now. I still find it incredibly hard, and you know what? I probably always will. But in that, I've been stretched, I've grown more than I ever thought I could grow, and it's making me into a better person. Sometimes I just go in and look at my little guy and swell with joy, or just rock him and cry, because I'm so thankful. So thankful for where we are, and where we've come from. This has been the single hardest thing I've ever gone through in my life, but also one of the best. It has made me less reliant on myself, more open with others, and more willing to understand. It has strengthened our marriage. It's helped me to truly understand, just a little, the depth of the love and mercy of God, and how much I am truly dependent on Him. And, I think, it's created an even deeper bond with Graham than I would have had. Once you've gone through hell and back with someone, you grow this sort of connection that binds you together on a level that you really can't even put into words, and that is a very precious thing.
It's done. It's not perfect; there's more I could have said, maybe some I could have left out, and my English teacher friends probably wouldn't appreciate this if it was in a paper, for the lack of tense agreement. But I'm glad I wrote it. I may piggy-back on this later and delve into why I think I had postpartum, and what I may do differently if, Lord willing, there is a next time. For now, I'm going to post this, then go to bed - but not before stopping in to just watch that precious little boy all curled up fast asleep, because moments like that are too good to pass up.
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