This Post is Not About the Baby (Volume Two)

When I first got pregnant, I promised  not to submit post after post of baby-news, pictures, and other items typical of an expectant mother in the blog world. For the most part, I think I did a good job keeping baby updates on Facebook and reserving this space for musings on marriage, education, politics, and the like...

But, when I spent about two weeks on the couch dealing with morning sickness and had nothing else to talk about as a result, I published a piece I titled "This Post is Not About the Baby"--in which I thanked Luke for being a great partner during my nauseated, moody stage. 

Well, folks, I've reached another phase in my life where--if I'm going to post at all--it HAS to be related to the baby. Obviously, she kind of dominates my days now. But, as with "Volume One" of the posts "not about the baby," Cameran only plays a supporting role in my musings today. As I expected, the drastic change she caused in my life has taught me much more about myself than anything else.

In just three weeks, Cami has rocked my world completely. I no longer decide whether to work on one project or another based on how many hours are in the day. Now, I have to figure whether those hours are truly "available," or likely to be spent feeding, rocking, or otherwise caring for Cami.  No longer can I count on a full night's sleep just because I put myself to bed at a decent hour and have nowhere specific to be the next day. Now, it all depends on how long Cami sleeps...  And, for a control freak like me, this has been hard. 

At first, the majority of the New Mommy Stress came from my haywire hormones. I experienced intense anxiety, trouble sleeping, and a sense of loss for my "old" relationship with Luke right off the bat. One night, while he was at work, I was sitting in the middle of the nursery floor, feeding the baby, with tears streaming down my face for no discernable reason except that things were different.  Eventually, I recognized body chemistry was a big factor in my feelings. AND, I knew a good way to preserve a part of my "old" identity was to keep writing. So, I journaled all those emotions. Here is an excerpt:

It’s been hard the last few days… This is what “they” mean when referring to the “baby blues,” I think. But it feels very similar to every time I turn a big corner in my life. Big changes tend to throw me for a loop, emotionally and spiritually. Combine that tendency with the fact that my hormones are out of control, and you can imagine a very tear-filled, fear-filled start to motherhood.


I Googled “Postpartum depression,” and almost every, single site said something like, “If you have thoughts of harming yourself or your baby, get help immediately!” Good Lord, I’m not that bad! But things feel kind of unpredictable right now, leaving me anxious, uncertain, and more-than-a-little-weepy.


When I went through puberty, I had somewhat of an identity crisis. I put a lot of pressure on myself to figure out whether I was athletic or brainy, tomboyish or girly, funny or serious—and I distinctly remember breaking down a few times when I couldn’t settle on certain categories. It seemed crazy not to be sure of who I was, and yet I struggled to “pick one.”


Similarly, when Luke and I started dating and I realized it was getting serious, I panicked while trying to define the relationship. Will we or won’t we get married eventually? If not, why continue to date? (And yet, I hated the idea of a break up.) If we will get married, then….yikes! That’s a lot to think about at 17. How will this affect our college plans? How will we support each other? What does the average couple need to make, per year, to survive? Would this union please God?

For a third example of a change-induced-crazy time, I struggled right after we got married—and right after I started working at the special needs daycare. I found myself reeling from all the “different” surrounding me. We moved out of our parents’ houses, and both of us got jobs for the first time (while continuing our full-time schedules as students). I knew I was capable of handling everything, but I still felt insecure and, most worryingly, doubtful about my decisions. Did I REALLY promise this man FOREVER? (We’d been joined at the hip for over four years at this point, and there was no specific reason to question things. But the permanence and the rapid change FREAKED ME OUT.) Eventually, all the newness caused me to neglect my prayer/journaling discipline, and I fell into a year-long downward spiral from “trying to survive” to “nothing-left-to-give-depressed-and-miserable-rut.”
Two things helped me in all of these milestone crisis situations.
1. Back-and-forth communication with God.
2. Communicating with myself through journaling.
In Junior High, I decided to let God define me, and I learned the important lesson that we don’t have to “pick” one personality over another. I discovered I’m girly AND tomboyish, funny AND serious, brainy AND…well, okay, there isn’t much athleticism in me. But, I realized it’s okay to be a walking contradiction sometimes. Different circumstances call for different responses, and I can be lots of different people when I need to be...
When going crazy over my dating relationship, I finally threw the responsibility to God there, too. I told Him to remove Luke from my life—shut the door in an obvious way—if he wasn’t the man for me. But I asked Him to bless us as we sought His will and to fill our marriage with love if it was meant to be.
And my blog was born the day I realized God was missing from my life yet again. I needed a place to express my thoughts. And, though I felt a little out-of-control, I wanted to write to others about how service to God is the highest human calling, regardless of how we feel. That’s how a rather emotional girl began journaling straight-forward, no-nonsense, unemotional selflessness—sometimes offending people with how detached I'm able to appear regarding certain topics...
Eventually, new things become old things. Crisis situations feel more manageable. And…eventually…even out-of-control situations can begin feeling comfortable.

Well, wouldn't you know that JUST as I was starting to adjust to the latest "crisis situation," my little girl threw another curve ball. For the first two weeks, she slept like an angel and literally only made noise when she absolutely had to. That is, if she was near starvation, she would fuss a little. But the rest of the time she only grunted her disapproval of things from time to time. When she wasn't sleeping or eating, she was staring us in the face--apparently reading our very thoughts with those big, blue eyes. And she rarely saw fit to cry.
 
I think God knew I couldn't handle more stress during those first tender days. Even though Cami was a good baby, her very presence was change enough to make me crazy. But, as I made it over the emotional hurdles through prayer, praise-singing, and journaling, the REAL Cami was unleashed.  :)
 
She still isn't a bad baby. But she has been unusually cranky the last couple of days. I've suspected gas, since she has been extra wiggly and unwilling to let me hold her (unless she's eating)! And I've also thought maybe she's hitting a growth spurt and just needs lots of extra food. Regardless, her daytime sleep has been reduced to less than an hour per nap, and she has done more crying in the last 48 hours than in her first two weeks TOTAL.  (sigh) 
 
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This post is not about the baby. It's about me. It's about the way I will choose to handle this situation. I've already declared round one, battling the Baby Blues, a victory for me. Instead of letting a dark cloud of depression consume me, I looked to God for my help.... But now, round two has arrived. Will I continue to praise Him, over the noise of my fussy baby?
 
It's difficult to praise when I'm tired and unable to sleep whenever I want. It's difficult to serve my baby girl selflessly when I've gotten comfortable in my selfishness. And, most of all, it's hard to relax and relinquish control of my life to a demanding infant and an invisible God....
 
But, that's what I choose to do.