Mind and Body Update

This post should've been written weeks ago.  I really wanted to do this closer to Z's two-month update, like I did the first month.  I have all of the usual excuses, including "there's no time!" but the real reason I've waited is because I needed to both have the time and be in a good state of mind when I wrote it.  That magical moment has happened right now, finally. The stars aligned and both things happened at once instead of me having to choose one or the other to get through writing this.

Let's start with the easy one: BODY.

How I'm looking: Well at the risk of sounding vain, I think I look great. I'm able to wear all of my pre-pregnancy clothes with the exception of only a few dresses that I bought right before I got pregnant, and those were always a crap-shoot anyway. My body has definitely changed, though. The shape is slightly different.  It may not even be noticeable to anyone but me, but I can tell.  Things fit, but differently. More snug in areas that used to be forgiving, but loose in areas that used to fit like a glove.

It's always a trip to see people for the first time since I had Z and watch their eyes dart immediately to my stomach to check out how it looks.  Don't think I don't noticing you doing that, folks. :)  But it makes me laugh, so don't feel badly about it. I'd do the same thing. 

How I'm feeling, physically: I was hanging out at around 10lbs above pre-pregnancy weight for a long time, but as of last week's doctor appointment that number has creeped up by a couple of pounds. Nothing alarming, but a definite sign that the steady postpartum weight loss has stopped, and that it's time for me to start being proactive again. I'm looking forward to putting some exercise back into my life, and hopefully cooler weather will visit us soon so that I can get outside with the pup and the babe. Cutting back on all the sweets and Dr. Pepper I've allowed myself during and since the pregnancy will be the most difficult part.  However, I've done it before and I can do it again.

Without going into unnecessary detail, I also just feel better, physically, every day. My body can go for longer periods of time without feeling tired or sore or getting too winded. Going back to work as soon as I did actually made me regress in my physical healing, at first.  But it's getting better and, despite the typical new-parent-sleepiness, I really do feel physically great.

Now for the not so easy one: MIND.

There's a part of me that wants to beat around the bush about this, but I've been brutally honest about everything else, so here goes:

I am suffering from dealing with postpartum anxiety. I define it as such not because I'm afraid of saying the words no mother wants to say (postpartum depression) but because of how the counselor I've been seeing (more on that in a minute) defined anxiety for me as "worry/fear of the future" and depression as "worry/fear of the past or present."

.....

I mean...what else do I say about it on a blog? It's probably pretty obvious that I have good reasons to feel this way.

Being a mom is hard.

I am still not completely over the disappointment over not breastfeeding. I don't think about it daily, but sometimes it doesn't take much to make me regress into feelings of guilt or disappointment. I think I need to come to terms with the fact that it may never completely go away, or that it may take a very long time.

I had a Car Seat Issue that those of you who are Facebook friends with me saw unfold as I completely berated myself for making an honest mistake.  An honest mistake that might have seriously hurt my son if we'd been in an accident, and I could. not. let it. go. I sobbed for hours the night I discovered my error. I took every "wow, thank God you figured it out" as a judgment on my parenting and my ability to take care of a baby. I cried most of the next day, too.

I get so sad at work sometimes because I like my job and I love working but I feel crushing guilt that my son only is with his parents for about 5 cumulative awake hours every weekday. 

I have a crippling fear of growing older and dying and leaving my son and my husband. I have dreams that one or both of them dies and it's my fault.

The Last Straw happened when I was at work, eating lunch in our break room and flipping through a magazine. I came across an ad in which an elderly couple was dancing at a wedding reception, having the time of their lives. I suddenly pictured myself as old and it was as though all the air was sucked out of the room and a ton of bricks had been placed on my chest. I had to go into the bathroom so I could cry and freak out. That was it. I knew I couldn't do this on my own anymore and I have to be functional at work. I also knew it was okay that I couldn't do it on my own anymore.

I called The Healing Place at my church and set up an appointment for pastoral care (meeting with a non-licensed counselor [mine happens to be in school to become one] for therapy that includes a spiritual and prayer aspect) immediately.

 

These sessions have really helped.  The first few were really just about me spilling my guts to her: all my fears, my doubts, my worries.  I've been able to put some things into perspective.  For example, though I feel that I should definitely not fear death and eternity with Christ, the reason I'm not exactly praying "Come quickly, Lord" is because I am blessed beyond measure here on Earth.  I'm surrounded by love. I love people.  I love this Earth, though it is of course filled with pain and conflict and war...those aren't the things on which I focus.  I love people-watching and the relationships that we have with each other. I love the actual earth and the incredible, mind-boggling science that makes it all work.  I am in no hurry to leave what is known.

When I said all of this to my counselor, she smiled at me and said "Yep. All this and Heaven, too!" I've heard that phrase before, but it never really resonated with me until that moment.  We have been given this Earth and the people in it as a gift, and even on our best day, it can't even compare to what we've been promised. 

I was doing a lot better with the anxiety until this past week, when the Car Seat Issue happened, and that a week after our President announced a possible plan to attack Syria's means of chemical warfare.  Hearing about "the murdered children" as I bounced my son to sleep, feeling as though there were a flashing neon sign above my head screaming "TARGET DEMOGRAPHIC," and then one minor, but important thing that I had failed (in my mind) to do to keep my own son safe was just as crippling as that day in the break room.

A friend asked me, "Would you chastise anyone else as harshly as you're chastising yourself right now?" Of course I wouldn't have.  And neither does Jesus. 

In my last session, through a completely cleansing prayer exercise, I heard Him tell me "It's okay." 

But! It's not! I don't even PRAY when this stuff happens! It doesn't even occur to me sometimes! That's terrible, right?!

"It's okay."

But I still don't know what I'm doing!  And I'm scared.  Why does anyone bring a child into this world when there's a definite limit to how much we can protect him? What if I can't do it?

"It's okay."

But....*sigh*....Okay then. I release it. I have to release it. If I don't, I'm going to miss out on everything happening now. I'm going to miss the sleepy smiles and the funny faces because I'm so worried about the future, about what could or might happen.  If the future is going to worry me, I need to focus on today.  What is happening right now that is wonderful? Find the joy in this moment.

"I've got this. I've got you and Michael. And I've definitely got Z. It's okay."

***

Postpartum depression and/or anxiety is very real. The hardest part was considering that it may be real for me and, once I hit a certain point, I had to entertain that it was possible.  Even if it's temporary.  Even if it's situational.  But it's not bad or embarrassing or shameful.  

I'm not embarrassed at all about admitting that I'm struggling.  I'm not embarrassed that I've sought counseling.  (I'll admit that I'm a little embarrassed that I might need to consider a small amount of anti-anxiety medication at some point, but we have agreed to try more sleep, more physical activity, and healthy food choices in addition to meditation and prayer and release before we take that route.)

But every day is a day closer to further healing. Every day might need a reminder to let it go, to find the joy, to trust in my God-given instincts and abilities, to give myself a break, to ignore the lies of the Enemy when he tells me I'm not good enough.

Most importantly, to be joyful and thankful for what I am instead of focusing on all the things I'm not.

Serenity vs. Pregspectations

Do you like that word? Pregspectations? I made it up last night when I was thinking about the expectations of a woman -- or at least my own expectations -- and of those around her when she is pregnant.

Word combinations. Worbinations. They're fun!

Anyway...

It's not news to anyone who knows me or who has been reading this blog that I've been having a bit of trouble feeling really connected to this pregnancy and this baby.  The most I've felt that it's really real was last Friday during and after our anatomy scan ultrasound. I got to see the outline of an actual developing little person inside me, which was super cool.  But, overall? I just...don't.

I pray for the baby, of course. Every single day. I think about him/her a lot, especially when I'm in the car listening to music and singing.  I wonder if s/he hears me and likes the sound of my voice. I wonder if it recognizes Carmen's barking and Michael's voice.  But that only really happens in specific moments.

I have friends who are loving every moment of being pregnant and having these serene, powerful connections to their babies. I'm happy for them, but it makes me feel...well let's just be honest.  This is a blog after all.  It makes me feel like a bad Mom already. 

I have definitely started enjoying pregnancy more, but as of this point in time I don't see myself being the kind of woman who misses being pregnant. I feel great, overall.  I'm having fun picking out outfits for myself that challenge me, finding new ways to look cute and incorporate my style into maternity wear. I'm SO GLAD to have started taking the steps necessary to get the house and the baby's room ready. I liked registering (even though each time I've very definitely hit The Wall and started getting overwhelmed).  So I'm not miserable and uncomfortable (anymore) (again, yet). 

I just really still see this as a means to an end.

Recently, several friends have given birth...and even more will before it's our turn to meet the Little One.  Those are the times I get really emotional -- when I see the first photos of the new family.  Mom crying as the baby is handed to her.  Dad struggling to keep his emotions in check as he holds his son/daughter for the first time....so maybe that's gonna be our strongest memory and emotion, too.

Maybe some people really feel like parents during the pregnancy, but for others it takes holding the baby in their arms.  I think I -- we, actually -- might be the latter. Michael and I talked about this last night as I was mulling all of this over, and I talked about this a little with a friend today, too.

Really I think I need to just let go of the worry.  The worry that something will be wrong with the baby.  The worry that something is wrong with me.  The worry about what others think/will think about my decisions and choices. My friend today asked me if I was giving anything up for Lent. I answered that I don't really observe Lent, but I'm not opposed to the idea of giving up something that I don't need...and not just until Easter Sunday. 

So here it is.  I'm giving up worry.  I'm giving up the stress that might even be keeping me from enjoying this (relatively) short process more than I could be. I'm giving up the EXPECTATIONS that I think I should feel just because someone else did/does. 

I'm accepting serenity.  I'm accepting peace and acceptance. I'm accepting that my experience is valid and it's mine.

Feel free to hold me to this, friends. Just remember to do it nicely. :)

Pregnancy Post -- When does it get fun?

This post may be a little grinchy and whiny...

I've been wanting to post another "hey, here's how things are going!" post after my first one about a month ago, but I've been putting it off for several reasons:

• I am superstitious and wanted to wait til I had another doctor's appointment and confirmed the baby was still doing well (this is also why I JUST sent out Christmas cards yesterday).
• I've been busy at work.
• I don't have a lot to say that's cheerful and excited.

That third bullet up there is what's bothering me the most.

I am officially 14 weeks pregnant today.  I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday of this week, at which my husband and I heard the baby's heartbeat via Doppler.  I wasn't overcome with joy, though. I was just RELIEVED.  I needed proof and evidence that the baby was still alive and kicking (though I can't feel it yet) inside me. It took the doctor a few seconds to find the baby and the heartbeat, which I'm sure is perfectly normal this early, and my husband said he could tell by my body language that with each passing second I was starting to panic until I finally heard that galloping noise.

We had lunch together yesterday, and we had a lot to say about how we're feeling about this pregnancy.  At one point the question came up, "We are excited about this, aren't we?"  Of course we are! We planned this and prayed about it and cannot wait to be parents.  It's just...well, I'm not going to speak for him on this, but for me it's just that I don't feel emotionally connected to this pregnancy.

Everyone seems more excited about it than we are, which, in turn, makes me feel super guilty and lazy.

I started crying at lunch because I told Michael all I have been truly focusing on have been the more negative things:

• The fear. 
• The annoyance when people brush off or invalidate my fear (i.e., "Oh it's fine, stop worrying.").
• The loss of control over my body and my hormones (i.e., the exhaustion, the gag reflex that seems to sit right behind my teeth and seems to be getting worse rather than better, the little sharp pains here and there, the emotions GOD THE EMOTIONS).
• The fact that I have to remind myself "Oh right...I'm pregnant" sometimes.
• The weight gain that isn't quite cute yet.

What's wrong with me??  I prayed fervently yesterday morning when the dog woke me up at 5am and I couldn't fall back asleep...I prayed that I'd feel happier and more excited.  I prayed that I will feel this baby move sooner than "normal" so I can have a daily reminder that it's there.  I prayed that I'd let go of my anxiety and fear and the desperate need for tangible proof that this is actually happening...

(Which of course leads me to thoughts of faith in general.  Why do I need evidence to believe?  Why am I so convinced that something bad is going to happen? I don't generally live my life in fear...that's not who I am.  If anything, I'm usually kind of a "Well, there's nothing I can do about it, so whatever happens happens" type of person.  I do get anxiety, sure, but this is brand new [as it should be...I've never been pregnant before] stuff.)

I also just overall feel really really guilty that I'm not sitting around feeling like Mother Earth here, all peaceful and serene and rubbing my belly happily.  I may be one of those women who just views pregnancy as a means to an end, and all of this will seem silly and crazy and hormonal once I'm holding my baby.  I'm aware of that.

I'm just ready for it to get fun.  To feel as excited as everyone is around me, and not take their excitement for me away with my Charlie Brown attitude about all of this. 

It just still doesn't feel real.  Whine whine whine.  Maybe putting this "out there" will help, and I'll feel stupid for publishing it in a couple of days when I feel completely different.  Here's hoping!

No Shame November -- Politics

My friend Tashina has started up a blogging prompt list for the month of November. She's calling it "No Shame November," because, well...let me let HER tell you why:

Why “no shame,” besides the fact that it sounds good with “November”? Because I want everyone to write about each topic (whether it’s general thoughts or a specific story or “I hate [topic]” or any other way you want to write) COMPLETELY HONESTLY. It can be humorous, sincere, psychotic… I don’t care! But there’s no shame. None. If you feel shame, I WILL COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND MURDER YOU. 

 So, there you go. She suggested we take the topics in any order we please, so I'm starting with one that's currently on everyone's minds and Facebook timelines: POLITICS.

There's a big day coming up in our country.  Tuesday, November 6th, is Election Day in the United States of America.  

I voted early.  Last week.

Also? It was my very first time to vote.

No, I didn't just turn 18. 

I'm not going to get into reasons why it was my first time to vote because (and pay attention because this is kind of the theme for this post) it's really none of your business.

I remember being a kid and asking my parents who they voted for once, and they both told me it was none of my business.  I remember that very clearly.  My parents didn't ever force their political opinions or beliefs on us, but they certainly held on to their own and felt strongly about them. I don't even think they told each other their preferred candidate.

We live in a technological age that has given every single person who can use a computer or a smart phone a soap box, a megaphone, and the false sense of being an expert about any and everything.  My Facebook feed is CHOKED with political propaganda and rants and opinions, and it's frightening at worst, hilarious at best.

"But Mandy! Voting is IMPORTANT! It's not FUNNY."  I agree with you.  Mostly. It's very important.  But you're wrong about that second part.  The hilarity lies in the belief that posting any of your long-winded rants or cleverly-worded political cartoons or emotionally-charged manifestos on why we should vote for Your Guy (or Gal! You go Jill Stein.) is going to change anyone's mind.

Everyone has issues that are important to them.  Everybody has an opinions on those issues.  Everyone has the right to those opinions.  I have my own opinions (which should come as a shock to absolutely no one) but, for once in my life I'm choosing to keep them off Facebook. 

Any of my deepest thoughts, feelings, ideas, beliefs, and passions belong to me.  Not my 691 Facebook friends. 

I've posted very  middle-of-the-road things such as, "You discover a lot about people during an election year," but nothing should've ever given too much of a clue as to how I feel about an issue or a candidate. I've encouraged people to educate themselves and to vote, if they choose to.  Or to not vote, if they don't feel that they're educated.  I just care that people do make a choice.

But there's one thing I shared with Facebook today that I will happily share with all of you because it's a fact and I believe it with my whole heart -- If Obama is elected, Christ will still be King.  If Romney is elected, Christ will still be King.  (I also added a bit about Rick Astley still being amazing no matter what, just to add some whimsy and to avoid a comment war because I'm turning into a bit of a pacifist in my old age. This old heart can't take the drama.)

Whichever candidate is elected next Tuesday, I will support the President of the United States and continue to serve a living God before anything or anyone else. But, I still voted, because I felt led to, and I am proud to have exercised my right and my freedom to do so. 

So, for whom did I vote?

None of your business.