Tag: parenting

I awake with a jolt of fear, an instantaneous drop of the stomach. I bolt upwards, hands sliding through tangled sheets searching for him. I call out to no one, “Where is he?” It takes me maybe a minute to come to my senses, but the emotional toll of the experience makes it feel much longer. I realize now that I am alone in my childhood bedroom. It’s both familiar and strange all at once, as this is the first time I’ve slept here in months, and the first time I’ve ever slept here as a mother. This room has seen my nightmares before, about monsters under the bed & shadows on the walls. My dreams have taken a different shape from those I experienced as child.

My eyes slowly adjust to the extreme dark of the room. Where I grew up, there are no street lamps or porch lights to cast a glow through sheer drapes; only the stars & moon to keep you company in the night. Reality begins coming back to me like a rubick’s cube clicking into place. I now see my son’s pack and play a few feet away. I slide quietly over to him. The feel of the carpet beneath my feet and the chill of the room ground me back to the present. I place my hand gently on his belly and leave it there for some time, feeling the subtle rhythm of baby breath, a sweet assurance that he is well.

As I get back into bed, trying desperately not to make a sound, my mind spirals to a place as dark as the country sky outside. Why do I continue to have nightmares about Trip being lost or hurt? I consider the pressures of new motherhood. I think about what the pediatrician reminded me of the week before – that “simply” nursing more frequently will keep my supply up. My fatigued mind and lonely heart conspire against me and I fall deeper into distress.

Keeping Trip’s weight up while exclusively breast feeding was a struggle since he was born. I would cry while nursing him due to pain, he would fall asleep due to over exertion, and an hour later we would repeat this process. I read blog upon blog and joined online support groups. I had multiple consults with the best lactation consultants. Each time I would go to buy formula, I felt a pang of guilt and defeat. Fed is best, breast is best. What was best for us? My love for this little human and also the weight of responsibility collided and crashed over me like a tidal wave.

As I lie there alone, I couldn’t muster the energy to drag myself out of this pit of sadness. I knew deeply how lucky I was to have my healthy baby boy sleeping next to me. My thoughts traveled to just down the hall where my little brother used to sleep; the very same place where he left this world. As hot, guilt ridden tears slid down my tired face, I thought:

“I am not strong enough to do this. I want to run away.”

I believe God met in that moment of desperation as I then understood what I needed to do. The next week, I called my OBGYN and explained to her how I had been feeling. I was placed on a low dose of Lexapro for postpartum anxiety. From that day on, I never had another nightmare.

I’m not saying that medication is the answer to every emotional problem in the world. I’m not saying it’s right for every situation. In that moment, in that period of raging hormones and new stress, a small dose of anti anxiety medication was exactly the help I needed. I had incredible support from my husband, family, and friends. But they weren’t able to chase away my wakings in the night. That medication gave me the margin and stability I needed during the first year of Trip’s life. It helped me understand that breast feeding didn’t make me a better mother.

Now as a mom of two, I look back on that experience and can be grateful about how I took one small step in my motherhood journey. I’m not sure what this means for you today if you are in a season of desperation. Maybe it’s asking a friend to watch your kids so you can take a nap or go on a walk or eat a meal in the quiet. Maybe it’s a counselor or a hot bath or prescription medication. I pray you find it today.