Today

Today, sweet Eliza Louise turns four weeks old, and I officially become one of those mothers who wonders where the time goes. It really does feel like just days ago that we brought her home, so excited to do her first diaper change in her nursery, introduce her to the pups. Gosh, we were even sort of excited about the first night feeding. We were ready to roll up our sleeves and wander bleary-eyed into the new parent trenches. So we did. And then life got pretty real.

It's not that we thought it would be easy. I was absolutely expecting it to be hard. The hardest thing I've ever done even. All of you who have done it are nodding along right now. Oh yes it's hard. It's the hardest thing you'll ever do. Of course it is. I guess anticipating it and living it are two different things, and having survived month one, I'm ready to recap. I'll sprinkle some pictures in because I know that's what you're really here to see.

Her first week involved 5 doctor appointments. Eliza came home a little jaundiced, so they wanted to see her on Monday to check her bilirubin levels. Jaundice, of course, is a super common thing, so we weren't too worried. Her levels crept up through the week, and each appointment dictated that she be seen again in a day or two. We got pretty familiar with her new pediatrician. I have no idea what I wore to those appointments, still not moving around too well, and getting the hang of the whole, not being pregnant and figuring out what to wear for breastfeeding thing. I know for a fact I had spit-up in my hair and was running on 2 hours sleep for at least two of them. Oh well, I'm sure they are used to filthy zombies wandering into their offices with precious oblivious babies in tow. My milk, I was told at the hospital, should come in any day now. It didn't. This was making her jaundice much worse, and causing her to drop too much weight, so we had to start supplementing with formula, and to help compensate for her not nursing as much, I needed to pump after every feeding around the clock. We talked and worried about poop, incessantly. I never thought I'd say that.

Four days in, they sent us home with a bili bed, which is essentially this baby tanning bed fitted with a blue light; the phototherapy helps with the jaundice. She was to be on it any time she wasn't nursing. She only cries when she is hungry usually, but she screamed all day, all night long. Torture. I was still in a lot of pain at that point and so couldn't sit with her while she was on the bed, so sweet Nicholas hovered over her much of the day and night, soothing her and trying to keep her calm. Eliza says it was the worst day of her life.



The next day, her levels were just barely good enough to not have to take the bed home for another night. So, so lucky! We figured out around then that the issue with my milk was my anemia, which was labeled severe when I left the hospital and had caused me to have a few fainting spells and be woozy much of the week as well. WHY was I told on one hand my milk should be in any day, and on the other hand I was super anemic? No one put these two together but as soon as I told the pediatrician she was certain that was the cause. We continued to supplement, I to pump droplets of milk, we saw a lactation consultant. Then I saw another one. Her weight continued to drop even after a few days of supplementing. I wept. Poor Miller didn't know what to do. It was a tough few days.

In week two and three, Eliza got so much better. Our little 7 lb daughter was thriving, despite having two green parents who were flying by the seat of their pants and some health issues stacked against her. She is the most perfect little newborn you could ever ask for.



I, on the other hand, started to struggle. The baby blues set in. Not being able to properly nourish my baby, combined with the crazy hormones, health issues, and no sleep, had come together into a fairly effective ambush, and I was feeling in short, like the worst mother ever. My only job was to feed the baby and I was failing. My husband was juggling work, and taking wonderful, perfect care of us; he had been a superdad from day 1. I thought this would come so naturally to me, I was the one who had so much experience with babies. I could change a mean diaper and give baby baths and knew what to do with a blue bulb. But I was overwhelmed; I hated breastfeeding, hated pumping - it all felt so futile and just contributed to my feelings of inadequacy. I started feeling disconnected from my baby, which is, truly, the most awful feeling in the world.



It's something no one talks about too much, at least not in detail, I guess because it's shameful to feel anything besides totally blissful and in love with your new, precious little blessing. Certainly that's what people seem to expect you to feel like. Certainly that's how I felt the first couple of days. Well, it goes without saying that I dearly loved my baby. But the emotional fog that set in was difficult and at times seemed insurmountable. I'd read about it, but living it was unsurprisingly, undeniably different.

I do still feel a little ashamed, and for many I realize this is considered a massive overshare, but I'm talking about it because I said I'd share this part, the honest, ugly, busted side of our little lives with our little one. I'm not sharing it to get pity; it's not a pitiable thing - the first few weeks are hard for everyone. I'm sharing it because I know some of you will be new mothers in the not too distant future, and my most unexpected source of support was the new and experienced mothers who texted, e-mailed, and in some cases came out of the woodwork to encourage me, on just a hunch that maybe it wasn't going so smoothly. I learned from their stories - of 5 days on the bili bed, poor milk supply, babies who can't latch, scary postpartum hospital stays - that many, maybe most of us go through this rough patch, and many experience these feelings of inadequacy and despair in the beginning. And it's equally common to feel like you are the only one who has ever struggled with it. A huge THANK YOU to all those women, it meant the world to have people who related to this crazy time. I wasn't even the only one who wanted to throw my stupid rented "hospital grade" pump out the window. It is a huge life transition, the only one that necessarily intersects with intense physiological trauma, and new, raw emotions you never knew existed. And despite what it feels like, it does indeed get better. And it has, a little every day. We still have a lot to learn, but 1 month never looked so good.



Coming up: Father's day, the nursery (finally!) and the highs of month 1, of which there are many! Happy weekend everyone! xo