Ever since I can remember, I have been a writer. Not professional. I write to express my emotions. It started with journaling, I dabbled in poetry, went back to journaling, and now I have this Blog. I have been feeling very emotionally heavy lately, and I wanted to release my thoughts with a Blog post, so I wrote Twelve Weeks of Motherhood this morning. Typically, after I write, I feel so much lighter. This afternoon, as I drove to the gym, I almost cried. I don’t feel lighter. I feel worse. Everything I wrote in Twelve Weeks of Motherhood was factual, but it wasn’t the entire truth. I usually don’t hold back when putting my thoughts and emotions to paper, but I did today. Postpartum has been incredibly difficult, and if I’m being honest with myself, I haven’t quit yet wrapped my head around how I feel, which might be why I had such a hard time writing this morning’s post, Twelve Weeks of Motherhood.
I feel angry. I feel guilty. I feel isolated. I feel loved and supported.
I feel angry that postpartum recovery has been so challenging. I expected tearing and being sore. I prepared myself to lay low for six weeks. I even had a plan in case Postpartum Depression presented. I didn’t expect to have zero control of my bladder for weeks. The Moms at the gym always joked about wearing leggings if jump rope is in the workout, but I wasn’t experiencing a lil leaking. I, in fact, no longer had any control of my bladder. One evening, I asked Kody to hold Marlow, and as I stood up, I became wet from my urine. Was this supposed to happen? Was this normal? I laughed at losing all my dignity during the labor and delivery, but I hoped to regain it once we were discharged.
Exercising while pregnant was easy. I found it informative and enjoyable. I was worried I wouldn’t return to fitness postpartum correctly, so I purchased an eight-week certified postpartum fitness program. A few weeks into the program, I started to experience pulling on my pelvic floor. I couldn’t lunge, plank, jump, jog, or do a burpee. I took the six weeks off. I followed the programming. What am I doing wrong? Why was I in so much pain? All I wanted to do was sweat. I feel like my body is failing me.
I was angry. I am angry.
I feel guilty. I love teaching. I miss my students and was sad I missed the first day of school. I find so much joy in the teaching and socialization of my everyday work life. I am excited to go back in October. Once Marlow is in daycare, I can workout for 45 minutes without being interrupted to feed Marlow or put a binky back in her mouth. I also feel sad that our days together are ending. I love cuddling her while sipping coffee every morning. I know I am going to miss these days. I feel a push/pull. I am excited to return to work, but I don’t want to wish any days away. Mostly, I feel guilty.
Many of us hold many titles in our daily lives: spouse, daughter, friend, coach, co-worker. I know many new Moms lose their sense of identity as they transition into their new role of a constant caretaker. In this transition, I feel isolated. I know so many others have experienced this same shift. It doesn’t matter how often I talk about the loneliness with Kody or how many friends I talk to daily, it is still isolating. I know the root of isolation is learning MY new responsibilities and routines. This is my new normal, and I have to process the changes.
Mostly, I feel loved. The outreach of support from all my social branches has been overwhelming in the best way possible. There has never been a moment that I haven’t felt supported. I have had family and friends to confide in through every high and low. And I have Kody. Many say that the Dad can’t do much if the Mom is breastfeeding, but the truth is the Mom needs her husband the most in the first months. On the days I feel angry, he reminds me that my body carried and nourished our lil girl. On the days I feel guilty, Kody tells me he is proud of the Mom I am to Marlow. On the days I feel isolated, he hugs me. I feel loved.
The first twelve weeks of motherhood have been a beautiful mess. Postpartum has been hell. It has come with challenges, fears, and LOTS of emotions. The truth isn’t always pretty.