Baby Blues

I just had a bouncing baby boy, and I'm not elated, joyful, or glowing. I'm tired, angry, stressed... and I can't blame it on him anymore because he's no longer the "Grumpy Guss" he started out as. So I go to work and smile, and laugh, and share stories about the kids, and dread going home at the end of the day because I have this gorgeous little boy that I desperately want to connect with that I have no clue how to relate to.

The whole pregnancy was hard. I had baby fever since before we even got engaged. My baby was getting bigger, and I wanted another one. I had this incredible man in my life that was an amazing father, and I wanted to do it from scratch. I wanted to go through the pregnancy, labor, and new parenthood with someone. Specifically, with him. I felt so alone last time, so embarassed, so ashamed. I put on a front to hide it from the world, because God forbid someone see through the armor I was wearing, see that I was terrified to do it all alone. So, we got married. Knowing I wanted a baby, he put things in order... got our finances together, purchased a new vehicle, and then asked if I wanted to have another baby. I was so excited! I immediatly started tracking my cycles, reading about fertility and conception, anticipated it taking several months.... and within 6 weeks I was pregnant.

I wasn't expecting that. I was excited about this time in our life while we would be madly in love, striving for this goal together, sharing the joys and frustrations of trying to concieve... and it was already over. I was pregnant. I'd never have that time back, we would never share the intimacy of expanding our family again, because B is adamant that we aren't having another. That was difficult for me. Yes, I was beyond blessed to have a body that functioned the way God intended, especially after what I had been told years before (reference first post)... but I was so excited about the trying process I wasn't ready for the pregnant reality. Physically, it also hit me hard. We were convinced I was having twins. The sickness was so much stronger, I felt like I was carrying a 10 lb weight on my hips at 6 weeks pregnant, I knew almost a week before that I was pregnant, my symptoms were so strong.

Over the next nine months I realized my expectations were too high. I had been looking forward to B lovingly placing his hand on my belly to feel his baby move, kissing my belly, or talking to the baby. This isn't B at all. I should have known that. I was bitterly disappointed to feel like I was going through it alone all again. He was there for me, he did the dishes, let me go to bed early, got up with the baby, attended my appointments... but it wasn't an experience that brought us together at all. I felt alone emotionally. To add to that, I experienced a lot of issues that I didn't the first time. I gained 40 lbs of water weight (so I looked much bigger than I actually was), I physically could not walk due to the pain I was in. I was miserable, and had to deal with a 2 year old at the same time. I had no patience, so I also dealt with the guilt that I wasn't being a good mother.

Finally, the time came to have the baby. I was so, so thankful to have my mother in law here. I don't know how we would have done it without her. I was scheduled for induction because we lived so far from the hospital. I had mixed feelings about this, because I wanted him to come on his terms. Thankfully, I went into labor the day before B's mom got here. I labored all day, and felt relief and joy. It was fun to share that experience with B, though I didn't like how he picked fun at me. It slowed down that night, and I got some rest. The next day labor stalled. So did the baby. He didn't move. We waited to go to the hospital because we were scheduled for induction the next day and B wanted to get a good nights rest. He didn't want to sit in the hospital all night for a stress test when we would have to get up and go in the next morning for induction. So we waited.

The next day we got to the hospital, I informed them of the lack of movement, and the baby was under stress. His fluid was thick as mud. He wasn't moving. I was devestated. When D was born they immediately whisked her away to the NICU because of her blood sugars and the meconium in her fluid. Now I knew that they would take my son from me as well. I would never have the reward of pushing the baby out and having it placed lovingly on my chest. Then they told me I would be having a c-section. It was harder than I ever would have imagined. Then they told me that even if I were to have another child, I would never have the joy of experiencing a natural child birth. I would be forever doomed to have a c-section. After running a 9 month race, I was denied the finish line. I don't remember much of the first 6 hours after his birth, and the relief of not being pregnant anymore overshadowed almost everything. He was such a good baby... and then we brought him home.

At 6 weeks Caleb was diagnosed with Colic. I NEEDED to nurse my baby, but it was making matters worse for him. So I gave it up. For a happier baby, but I miss the connection and bond that comes with nursing. I resent it a little that he didn't want my milk. That he didn't want to nurse from me. That his little body rejected me.

He's no longer colicky, but I shudder when he cries. My anxiety levels sky rocket, there's a huge fear that I won't be able to comfort him... like I've failed to do so many times before. I'm his primary night time caretaker... and I cuddle with him at night while he sleeps because it's the only time I feel safe holding him. I avoid him during the day, and I look forward to going to a job that I loathe because at least there I can't fail him yet again...

And my friends that have just had babies appear to be so filled with joy... I feel like a failure.