Singin' The Baby Blues

4 Months

It's Springtime in Vancouver. The cherry blossoms and magnolias are exploding, strangers are smiling in the streets instead of hiding behind umbrellas and Taiga jackets, and for the first time since Jonah was born I'm starting to feel myself again.

This winter has not been easy. Being a new Mom is difficult in ways I never expected. To top it all off, I've been struggling with what most new Moms  struggle with to some extent, exacerbated by what is traditionally the longest rainy period in Vancouver-- January to March.

I've been struggling with the baby blues.

I have a pretty serious history of clinical depression. Diagnosed when I was 16 and medicated with Zoloft (a SRI drug which doctors won't prescribe now to anyone under the age of 18),  I finally recovered in my early twenties with mucho therapy, meditation, yoga, and support from my amazing family and friends. I haven't needed SRIs since.

Depression is no joke. I'm still afraid that I'll wake up one morning struggling to find a reason to get out of bed. I was especially afraid when I found out I was pregnant.

First let's talk about how common this illness is.  Most women suffer depression after giving birth. The Canadian Mental Health association estimate that around 80% of mother's experience postpartum blues to some degree, ranging from feeling low for a few weeks, to a more prolonged depression, to full blown psychosis. No-one knows what causes it, but caregivers assert it can be caused by anything from hormonal changes, to vitamin deficiency, to sleep deprivation and emotional stress. 

In the beginning, full blown postpartum depression can look like the normal baby blues. They share many symptoms, including mood swings, crying jags, sadness, insomnia, and irritability. The difference with postpartum depression is that the symptoms last longer and are more severe, like having suicidal thoughts or feeling so low that you can't care for your newborn.

For me it crept up like a sneaky cold. One minute I'm fine, the next minute all I want to do is sleep. I dreamed about running off to Bali and joining a yoga cult in the hope that with enough sun salutations and colonics that everybody and everything would go away and my body and life would return to normal. As much as I love and am eternally grateful for my healthy beautiful son, I just couldn't muster up the joy some days.

There have been a few key issues for me:

1) Isolation. If you don't have a baby, you are probably not so interested in babies. That's OK. Before I became pregnant, I didn't give a shit about babies either.  Sometimes it takes a while to make additional baby loving friends who want to talk about fascinating things like the colour of poo for hours on end. Until that time, don't be surprised if you feel a bit foresaken. It won't last long. New Moms are like shitty ex boyfiends. They're everywhere. 

2) Loneliness. Swaying in a dark room for hours every day with a crying baby can get lonely. That's just the way the cookie crumbles.

3) Grief. Now this one really surprised me.  Before I had a baby, my days were jam packed. I worked my way through two degrees, practiced yoga, meditated, rode my bike, partied, ate at fancy restaurants, traveled, and did all the other fun stuff hip kids in their early thirties do.  Once the reality of being a Mom settled in, I bloody well missed those days. It has been a grieving process to let go of the freedom I used to enjoy. In hindsight there is a real Zen to being a Mom. The monotony coupled with the overwhelming sense of love and duty can be meditative and expansive if (and it's a big if)  you stay present to the experience. Doing 'nothing' is a gift that kids do effortlessly. As adults we need to relearn how to stare with wonder at dust particles in the sunlight. It's a worthy lesson.

4) Boredom. Changing diapers, singing nursery rhymes, talking to yourself, keeping the same routine most days... it can be really fucking boring. There. I said it.

5) Guilt. Oh the guilt. I wanted this baby! He's rad and I love him, so why do I sometimes feel isolated, lonely, sad and bored? I must be a really shitty mother, right? 

Wrong.

The first three months of motherhood are some of the most wonderful times you will ever experience, but they can also be extremely TOUGH, both physically and mentally. Don't be surprised if you question everything. Who you are, what you want, why the hell you had a baby in the first place.

I wholeheartedly believe that this is part of the process. It's accepting that your life has changed in ways you never expected, and allowing yourself to let go of the things you miss. Like riding your bike in the sun with no agenda and no place to go. Like sleeping in till noon and then fucking around on the internet all day until you fall asleep again. Like drinking three cups of coffee and writing 'till the sun comes up. Like not talking to anybody for a whole day. Like getting shitfaced wasted.

Missing these things does not mean you're a bad Mom and it does not mean that you don't love your baby. It just means that you're human, and that you actually have a life to return to once your fleeting, precious baby years are over. 

This is a good thing.

After hearing other women's stories, my experience with the baby blues has been relatively mild.  I only felt bad for a few weeks. Now the difficult days come and go, but they are few and far between. I never once had the urge to throw my baby out the window, which another friend seriously told me that she'd considered. Not that she'd do it, but the urge was there and the guilt that followed. I totally get it. It's just plain luck that it never got that bad for me.

And yet it's really been a struggle to remember myself, and find the eye of the storm where I can exist as a silent, unmoving force for this not-yet-quite-human thing that relies on me and only me for everything. There is something very beautiful and surprising in this vulnerability, both for me and my baby. Together I think we've come to a quiet understanding that nothing worth having in life can be accomplished without sacrificing something else.

Surprisingly enough, seeing my son put his foot in his mouth for the first time today, and the onslaught of smiles and giggles that ensued, was well worth any perceived sacrifice I've made. I can't imagine how I'll feel when he pops his first tooth, or starts to talk. 

A hell of a lot better than getting shitface wasted that's for sure.