Helloooooooo world! It’s been a while…
When I started this blog at 6 months pregnant, I had no intention of waiting until almost 6 months postpartum to get back into writing. I had every intention of using this blog as a way to connect with new moms who were on this journey with me. I wanted to tell our birth story right away, to talk about all the newborn things, the joys and struggles of motherhood in those early days. I’ve started writing a few times only to be distracted by my baby waking up from her nap after 20 minutes. I’ve thought about writing in those late hours when she’s down for the night, only to find that what I really want to do is curl up next to my husband and watch a show. I’ve thought off and on about the guilt I have for starting something and not continuing, even as I grew, birthed, and am now raising a tiny human. Did I mention we moved a few weeks ago, too?
And this morning, as I battled this guilt yet again, I realized how ironic it all is. How my feelings are kind of a big metaphor for what so many of us deal with—MOM GUILT. That feeling that you’re trying so hard and failing. That you could be doing so much more. Like it’s impossible to just relax because there is always something that should probably be getting done… laundry, cleaning… even doing something for myself can feel like a chore. Lately my baby has been taking really long naps in the morning, during which I find myself feeling anxious! Do I get a bunch of stuff done? Do I try and “relax”? What about that random project I wanted to do like a year ago, surely this is the time for it. I’m so tired of feeling like I always have to be doing something!
As a matter of fact, I’m just so tired. It’s hard to believe that half a year has gone by since I gave birth to my daughter (whose name is Amara, by the way). So much has happened. So much has changed. In my first few days postpartum I received a gift from one of my best friends, called the Postpartum Grace Guide. It’s essentially a journal with prompts for the first 6 weeks of postpartum, developed by a mom who experienced severe postpartum depression after the birth of her first baby. I have (obviously) always been a writer and someone who has journaled regularly since I was like 10 years old, so this gift was right up my alley. I had hard days and harder days, but overall in those first 6 weeks I felt like I had a pretty good grip on this whole new mom, postpartum thing. I had baby blues during the first week or so after giving birth, but other than that I felt like I was steering clear of PPD, which was a fear of mine.
Fast forward all these months and I think the likelihood of postpartum depression is probably higher now than it was those first few weeks. It’s such a weird feeling, being almost 6 months out and suddenly feeling like I just woke up. Like I’m back in my body but oh wait, what happened to this body? I have all these aches and pains that I either didn’t feel or wasn’t recognizing until just recently. After we moved a few weeks ago I realized that I had barely been going on walks, what happened to those regular walks I used to take while pregnant? What happened to practicing yoga? What the hell happened to my posture, does my back hurt like this because I’m constantly bending over a crib? At a friend’s birthday party the other week we went around and talked about what our hobbies and interests were. I remember what I used to be interested in, and for fear of sounding like an idiot I just went ahead and said those things (cooking, yoga, reading). But the truth is I feel like I haven’t had any interests or a hobby in a very long time. A very, very long time. And that makes me sad.
Please don’t get me wrong, though. I’ve actually been really happy these last six months! How contradicting, I know. I’ve not reiterated it in this blog post yet but, truly the joy my baby brings me and this new life we have is immeasurable. I feel so much love every day that I have never, ever experienced before. It’s surreal, looking at her and nursing her and thinking, You are the being that grew inside of me for all those months. You’re here. And you’re perfect.
But that’s a post for another day. I started this blog to be real, not to sugarcoat things. Not to act like I have it all figured out, like everything is perfect. Because I don’t and it’s not. I’m in a place right here, right now where I am suddenly 6 months postpartum and realizing that it is time for me to come back to myself. And pouring more energy into The Root Wilde is one of those things that I know I need. So stay tuned. I promise that more is coming.
