A breaking point
I'm not sure whether to call this postpartum depression. I think it's just a breaking point. Yesterday, when Joe and Arjoon came home they found me pacing around the living room in tears carrying Ana, who was inconsolable from her tongue tie procedure the day before. I was exhausted and hadn't slept solidly, or gotten a real break from the baby, since she was born. I have been struggling with making sure Ana was gaining enough weight and feeling personally responsible for her slow weight gain and her reflux. I felt guilty for putting her through the tongue tie procedure just so I could optimize her breastfeeding and limit my chances for mastitis. I was tired of pumping even AFTER night time feedings. And I felt incredibly lonely because I felt like no one could really understand my situation, especially Joe. He was sleeping more than I was, had more opportunities to work out, was kid-free for 9 hours a day. He wasn't breastfeeding and providing the sole source of nutrition for a young baby. I just felt burned out and miserable. Every day I felt like everyone was leaving me to go on with their lives, and I was...stuck. Stuck in the house with a baby that I was solely responsible for growing, with literally no one to talk to. Yes, I could go out, and I do sometimes. But the lack of interaction with other people and isolation has been incredibly challenging for me.
All of this compounded into a full meltdown yesterday evening. I kept telling Joe that I wasn't okay, and I wasn't. I felt awful about the whole thing but somehow something in me snapped. I'm not sure there was one factor that tipped me over from being normal and fully functional to a blubbering, nonsensical idiot, it just all kept building up and I reached a limit. I begged Joe to stay home even though he had a long awaited poker night ahead of him. Of course, he obliged because he knew something was really wrong. We spent the whole evening trying to talk through my feelings but I sort of felt like I was in shock. And I felt incredible guilt for just ruining the whole evening, and for keeping Joe hostage from his night away.
I mentioned some of this above, but during my swim this morning (I went at 5:30 this morning when everyone else was asleep), I finally had a chance to clear my head and think through what exactly happened. Here's what I came up with:
1. I am extremely sleep-deprived. Ever since the whole bout with back-to-back mastitis, I've been terrified of recurrence and have been pumping at night after Ana is finished eating. On top of that, with the baby's reflux, we've been advised to keep Ana upright for 20-30 minutes after each feeding, even at night time. Which is exhausting. Joe helps a bit but the whole process takes about 45 minutes from start to finish and I've often found it difficult to fall asleep afterwards. Sometimes I have to get up 1-2 hours later. I'll be honest--the lack of sleep is really, really getting to me. I can't imagine how it will be when I go back to work. I'll adjust and everything will be fine but things will be so much harder when I have to use my brain during the day time. Depression flourishes from sleep deprivation.
2. I am incredibly hard on myself. I'm pretty type A, so I naturally set goals and expectations for myself and expect myself to follow them. When I can't, or don't, I get disappointed in myself and dwell on why I couldn't achieve them. Why didn't I get up early to swim when I know it makes me feel better and staves off the depression? (answer: I'm too tired.) Why can't I help Ana gain more weight? (answer: I don't know but I am giving her all that I possibly can.) Does Arjoon love me less because there is another baby in the picture and I don't spend enough time with him? (answer: no. There is a reason and a season for everything. Right now, I need to focus on the baby. I spend time with him when I can. He knows I love him and I tell him that every day.) The answers are obvious and logical but I somehow reason myself out of them, blaming myself for everything. It's really toxic. And I'm feeling it.
3. I feel lonely. As I mentioned before, every day I feel like Joe and Arjoon get up and leave me for their own lives and don't return until 6 PM. I sometimes don't get more than 30 minutes with Arjoon before he goes to bed, especially since I often have to cluster feed the baby. By the time we put both kids to bed, it's about 8 PM and I have about an hour to an hour and a half before I need to go to bed so I can get a little bit of sleep before the first night time feeding. I don't have enough time with Arjoon. I don't have enough time with Joe, my partner in all of this. I think I panicked yesterday during my meltdown about Joe leaving me again, too. It just was another reminder of how everyone else was returning to their own lives and I was stuck here by myself.
The worst is explaining all of this to Joe and feeling his disappointment in me. It makes me feel even more worthless. I know he's unhappy because of all of this and there's nothing that I can do to make myself feel better. Joe didn't ask for any of this. I feel like such a burden to him and to the whole family, and that things might be easier if I weren't here. Life would be simpler for all of them. Because of everything I described and the toxic guilt I have, I feel like a terrible mother and partner, that I should be doing more but I just can't. I feel paralyzed and stuck. I feel like the main character on Groundhog's Day, waking up to the same reality day after day, without a way to alter my situation. I'm at the bottom of a 30 foot well without a ladder.
I know Joe thinks the solution is simple. Compartmentalize. Don't think about it. Just leave and take a break and come back. But it's not that easy. None of it is.
Not that I'm deserving, but I do wish Joe were a little more sympathetic and comforting. I wish he would hold me and tell me that it's going to be okay. I wish he would take the initiative in helping me figure out how to change my situation.
I wish I could sleep more. I wish I could have some time away. I wish I could feel better. I wish I could feel better.
All of this compounded into a full meltdown yesterday evening. I kept telling Joe that I wasn't okay, and I wasn't. I felt awful about the whole thing but somehow something in me snapped. I'm not sure there was one factor that tipped me over from being normal and fully functional to a blubbering, nonsensical idiot, it just all kept building up and I reached a limit. I begged Joe to stay home even though he had a long awaited poker night ahead of him. Of course, he obliged because he knew something was really wrong. We spent the whole evening trying to talk through my feelings but I sort of felt like I was in shock. And I felt incredible guilt for just ruining the whole evening, and for keeping Joe hostage from his night away.
I mentioned some of this above, but during my swim this morning (I went at 5:30 this morning when everyone else was asleep), I finally had a chance to clear my head and think through what exactly happened. Here's what I came up with:
1. I am extremely sleep-deprived. Ever since the whole bout with back-to-back mastitis, I've been terrified of recurrence and have been pumping at night after Ana is finished eating. On top of that, with the baby's reflux, we've been advised to keep Ana upright for 20-30 minutes after each feeding, even at night time. Which is exhausting. Joe helps a bit but the whole process takes about 45 minutes from start to finish and I've often found it difficult to fall asleep afterwards. Sometimes I have to get up 1-2 hours later. I'll be honest--the lack of sleep is really, really getting to me. I can't imagine how it will be when I go back to work. I'll adjust and everything will be fine but things will be so much harder when I have to use my brain during the day time. Depression flourishes from sleep deprivation.
2. I am incredibly hard on myself. I'm pretty type A, so I naturally set goals and expectations for myself and expect myself to follow them. When I can't, or don't, I get disappointed in myself and dwell on why I couldn't achieve them. Why didn't I get up early to swim when I know it makes me feel better and staves off the depression? (answer: I'm too tired.) Why can't I help Ana gain more weight? (answer: I don't know but I am giving her all that I possibly can.) Does Arjoon love me less because there is another baby in the picture and I don't spend enough time with him? (answer: no. There is a reason and a season for everything. Right now, I need to focus on the baby. I spend time with him when I can. He knows I love him and I tell him that every day.) The answers are obvious and logical but I somehow reason myself out of them, blaming myself for everything. It's really toxic. And I'm feeling it.
3. I feel lonely. As I mentioned before, every day I feel like Joe and Arjoon get up and leave me for their own lives and don't return until 6 PM. I sometimes don't get more than 30 minutes with Arjoon before he goes to bed, especially since I often have to cluster feed the baby. By the time we put both kids to bed, it's about 8 PM and I have about an hour to an hour and a half before I need to go to bed so I can get a little bit of sleep before the first night time feeding. I don't have enough time with Arjoon. I don't have enough time with Joe, my partner in all of this. I think I panicked yesterday during my meltdown about Joe leaving me again, too. It just was another reminder of how everyone else was returning to their own lives and I was stuck here by myself.
The worst is explaining all of this to Joe and feeling his disappointment in me. It makes me feel even more worthless. I know he's unhappy because of all of this and there's nothing that I can do to make myself feel better. Joe didn't ask for any of this. I feel like such a burden to him and to the whole family, and that things might be easier if I weren't here. Life would be simpler for all of them. Because of everything I described and the toxic guilt I have, I feel like a terrible mother and partner, that I should be doing more but I just can't. I feel paralyzed and stuck. I feel like the main character on Groundhog's Day, waking up to the same reality day after day, without a way to alter my situation. I'm at the bottom of a 30 foot well without a ladder.
I know Joe thinks the solution is simple. Compartmentalize. Don't think about it. Just leave and take a break and come back. But it's not that easy. None of it is.
Not that I'm deserving, but I do wish Joe were a little more sympathetic and comforting. I wish he would hold me and tell me that it's going to be okay. I wish he would take the initiative in helping me figure out how to change my situation.
I wish I could sleep more. I wish I could have some time away. I wish I could feel better. I wish I could feel better.
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