No, I’m not talking about a type of music. This past Friday I experienced a full-fledged case of the Baby Blues. Everything piled up on me emotionally and everything made me weepy that day. Amidst my emotional turbulence, I made some important realizations. Getting the tears out rather than suppressing them also helped. Then I recently recieved an email from Baby Center talking about how common and important it is for women to process their difficult birth stories–and everything the email said hit home with me. I took some time yesterday to journal about Baby’s birth and was able to pinpoint which things need some following up and which things need to be let go of.
The thing is that, in my romanticized mind, my family would have all kinds of time to gather around together and revel in this precious new part of our life. My husband and I would have the time to talk about what we went through on the day of his birth. I would have all the hugs and support I’m seeking to deal with how scary that day was. I can’t stop replaying it in my mind–especially the moments when my face was mashed in the pillow and all I could do was plead in prayer that Baby’s heart rate was coming back up and would quit dropping down as I wondered who all was in the room, not knowing who was near me, and having no idea where my husband was or what he was thinking, and whose hand was on my back and were they seriously going to put me under and cut out my baby? It was awful and I get weepy every time I remember it, but Friday was the worst.
It occured to me later that day how my body was feeling–like my recovery had really progressed and that I was feeling a bit restless for motion. I had been committed to rest and taking things easy, so other than a couple short walks after we got home from the hospital, the only exercise I’d been getting were trips up and down steps, as needed. So on Saturday I made sure to do the short aerobics portion of the postpartum workout on my Denise Austin VHS (and went very low-impact). Yesterday and today were fairly moderate outside, so I took my youngest two boys out for walks. I did have to reign myself in from the pace and length my brain craved when I found my body protesting a bit. Still, it felt good and I’m feeling much more even-keel lately, as a result.
Anyway, the truth is that I have so much to be thankful for, no matter how scary Baby’s birth day was. He’s in my arms at this very moment, getting sleepy. His eyes are rolling around all crazy and he’s making funny breathing noises. He’s beautiful and smells so sweet. He’s a precious little bundle in my arms–but boy is he growing and changing already. He’s safe and he’s home. He was baptized on Sunday. He’s God’s child. What comfort that is! If something were to happen, he would go from this world of strife and uncertainty to glory in heaven. I have nothing to fear. So, I hold and soak in and enjoy Baby as often as I can, trying not to lament my filthy floors and piles of clean laundry in baskets.
On that note, it’s time to power down and snuggle in.