Fourth Trimester Hell

They told us in Childbirth class that the first 3 months after having the baby is often referred to as the 4th trimester because of all your hormones working themselves back into order and such. They said it was like really bad PMS. So here I was expecting some pretty bad PMS and trying to prepare for it. I spent the first week in the hospital due to the c-section. To make it even better, I was the only one on the ward for a good 3-4 days. I was pampered beyond belief! The only things I had to do myself were shower and go to the bathroom. Greg was there most of the time, but I could tell he'd rather be somewhere else (who wants to be in the hospital when they don't have to be?). A couple of the nurses were becoming more like friends, so when the tears first started to fall everything was ok. I knew that I would be taken care of by my husband and my new nurse friends. And the tears really only started when I realized I had to go home the next day and that I wouldn't be pampered anymore. No big deal, right?

Wrong! (And this is where things get really blurry in my mind, so forgive me if things seem disconnected because they are.)

When I came home my husband said that his mom had come over and cleaned so that I'd have a nice clean house to come home to. I still can't figure out what she did to clean because it looked exactly the way I left it. There were still a couple dishes in the sink, the floors weren't swept, nothing was dusted or vacuumed or anything. I didn't say anything about it, but my emotions certainly did. I walked in, looked around, and the tears started to flow. (For the record, I never liked or wanted this house and still have ill feelings toward it.) This was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to go back to the hospital! That wasn't an option. Fine, then I'd go home to my parents! No... that wouldn't work, either, they weren't getting along and I didn't need the stress. Ok, then I'll just stay here, it's only PMS anyway, I'll be fine.

Greg was home with me for a couple of days before he had to go back to work. Those days weren't bad. I was ok with getting up with the baby in the middle of the night and Greg did everything he could for me. He did all the cooking, laundry, and even waited on me. But then he had to go back to work and I was on my own. I cried before he even walked out the door! I think I cried for about 3 days straight until my mom came down for the weekend (she had planned on coming for a week, but took off the week I was in the hospital... stupid c-sections fucked up all of our plans!). I had a great weekend!

Then mom had to go back home and continue her life and Greg had to go to work and I was home alone with the baby and little sleep once again. And once again I cried before Greg even walked out of the door. From then on I did pretty well during the day. I wasn't able to drive for a while and by the late afternoon I felt trapped at my house with this tiny new baby who was very unstimulating to me. All he did was eat and sleep. Everyone was at work and no one was home to talk to me or keep me company. By 3:00 I'd start feeling bad again. By 4:00 I'd be crying, and I'd cry for an hour. I'd call and talk to my mom and feel better. Then I'd call Greg and talk to him a bit. by 5:30/6:00 I was fine again. This went on for about 2 months and gradually faded away.

I remember one day, while the baby was sleeping, I started to cry. I called my mom and she talked me down, but as soon as I was off the phone I was crying again. I called Greg and he said he'd be home soon, but when I hung up I was crying again. Being November it was already quite cold outside. I stood on the porch and bawled! I remember thinking I can't do this! I'm not going to make it. I just want everything to be the way it used to be. I want to be happy but I can't be. I started to feel anxious and like my chest was caving in. I couldn't catch my breath. It was cold outside but I couldn't feel  the cold. I couldn't feel anything! You know how J.K. Rowling describes Dementors and how they make people feel before they suck the life from them? That's exactly how I felt! Like I would never feel happiness or joy ever again. And I just let myself cry and gasp and choke on the cold air. I let myself feel miserable and worthless and like I wanted to die. The whole time I held the phone in my hands hoping someone would call me and fix me. I needed someone, anyone to call me. I had made two attempts and they had failed. I was a failure. I had failed at having a natural birth and now I was failing at being a mom and even at living a normal life. I wanted some drunk to drive their car into my front porch right that moment like the drunk woman had a few months earlier to our neighbors.

After standing on the cold porch crying my eyes out for 10 minutes Greg pulled into the drive way. I ran to meet him at the back door and just fell into his arms. I had never needed someone so badly in my entire life! He asked me if something had happened to the baby, and I said (through hiccups) that no, the baby was fine. "Well what's so terrible?" he asked. I couldn't answer him. I didn't know what was so terrible. He held me for a while before the baby woke up to eat, and everything was suddenly better (for a short time anyway).

That night I called the midwife and told her how bad things were getting and that my incision was infected. I went into the office the next morning with Greg and the baby. When the midwife saw me we briefly discussed the birth and she said "You tried harder than anyone I know to have this baby naturally. You're my new hero." and she hugged me in the most sincere way anyone can. Of course, I started crying again. We talked for a little while after she gave me a prescription for my incision. We realized that it wasn't just fourth trimester PMS, it was pretty bad PPD. I was depressed for a few reasons: not liking my living environment, missing my childhood home, my parents not getting along, my dad drinking more lately, not being able to work or drive still due to the  c-section, and not being able to fulfill my dreams of a natural birth. All of these things were out of my control. There was nothing I could do about all of these things that floated in and out of my conscious mind daily. Once I had accepted these new truths I was able to move on.

Shortly after my talk with the midwife my crying decreased significantly. I still got sad around 4:30, but soon I didn't cry at all. So I'd like to take this moment to thank my mom, Greg, and Liza for all of their support, understanding, and love. Oh, and J.K. Rowling for giving me a way to describe my feelings through a mythical creature.