What goes up must come down

After a few days of uninterrupted post-partum mania, I started to hit some inevitable mood crashes.  Most of my time continued to be spent feeling ecstatic, but since a person can only sustain that for so long, I began to have daily plummets into depressive episodes.  My heightened awareness came along with heightened anxiety, which came along with heightened irritability, which meant that any little thing could throw me into the deep end of a crying spell.  And these weren’t the entertaining ‘mood swings’ you might see on t.v. – in fact they were rather frightening for me to experience and probably equally frightening for Ivan to watch.  The slightest disagreements that wouldn’t have phased me pre-baby, began to turn me into an emotional wreck.  I remember falling to my knees and sobbing desperately – the type of cry I hadn’t experienced since I was a child – the kind where you can barely catch your breath.  Yet, I can’t remember what I was crying about in that moment, so it probably wasn’t all that significant.

Each morning I would awake (after barely sleeping) with a smile on my face and the determination to prove to myself that the ‘baby blues’ were over.  Yet each day, for at least the first couple of weeks, I had at least one crying spell that lasted anywhere from a few minutes to half an hour.  That doesn’t seem like a long time – but while I was trapped in those spells, they seemed like they would never end.  At first I tried hard to fight them off, by running to the bathroom and trying to wash away the tears, but soon realized that these attempts were futile.  My hormones needed an outlet, and rather than trying to suppress them, I needed to express them in a healthy way and then move forward.  Similar to childbirth, I stopped resisting the pain, and started allowing my body and mind to experience these intense emotions, in order to move forward.  This helped me to regain control and remember that the dips were temporary, rather than being paralyzed with the fear that I thought I was ‘going crazy’ in those rough moments.  Being the therapist I am, I even wrote a list of ‘coping strategies’ (including simple tasks like eating, drinking, sleeping, relaxing, seeking support, etc.) since it’s easy to forget about self-care when you’re busy tending to a newborn. 

These first couple of weeks post-partum were definitely the toughest – both because my emotions were so raw and intense; and because I didn’t know when they would improve.  But luckily, the mania started to taper off and the crying spells started to become less regular.  I was hopeful, at that time, that my post-partum emotions would end any day, but have realized that they can often change and evolve for at least a full year.  

Post-partum mood, stage 1: Sheer Manic...

At the moment Mariah was born, I felt a strong dose of adrenalin pumping fiercely through my veins.  I had just gone through 16 hours of labour (most of which were quite manageable, however) and had delivered Mariah naturally – yet I didn’t feel the exhaustion or pain I had anticipated.  Instead, I felt excitement, an extreme sense of alertness, and a strong desire to stay awake and process the miracle I had just experienced.

For the next week or so, this adrenalin rush continued to offer me a natural high that lifted me to a place my emotions had never been.  I was unbelievably happy to have my long-awaited bundle of joy in my arms, and initially I chalked my excitement up to a ‘normal’ reaction to this life-altering experience.  When I wasn’t taking care of Mariah, I spent a lot of time following my mind on a frantic journey that explored rather deep topics such as my beliefs in God and spirituality.  In fact, I remember lying in bed thinking intensely about my new interpretation of God (i.e. that there is an abstract higher force or power that reaches out to us through elements of nature and the life cycle, since I’ve never been one who was satisfied by the idea that God is an actual ‘being’ who oversees us and has the ability to intervene).  Even as I reflect about this in retrospect, I can see how that would have felt like a powerful moment for me, but at that time I saw it as much more than that.  I remember wondering if this was how Buddha felt when he reached ‘enlightenment’ (seriously).  When I tried explaining this to Ivan, his first reaction was to smirk (probably since he was amused by my delusions of grandeur).  And rather than realizing that I sounded a little crazy, I felt shocked and terribly hurt that he wasn’t taking my spiritual revelation seriously.  In my mind I had almost expected him to be in awe of my realizations and in agreement that I had discovered valuable information that the rest of the world would be privileged to know. 

My days were filled with uncontrollable laughter at things that weren’t really all that funny, a sudden urge to ‘nest’ and organize the house (which I had never experienced during pregnancy like some women do), a generalized feeling of urgency to complete all tasks as soon as possible (such as personally replying to dozens of congratulation e-mails), and constant surge of ideas flowing rapidly through my mind.  It was the first time in my life that I had trouble sleeping at night – and I couldn’t even blame it on Mariah since she was a reasonably good sleeper.  My mind was just racing so fast with so many thoughts and ideas that I found it nearly impossible to calm myself down.  And since my frantic thoughts were positive and my mood was better than it had ever been, I didn’t have the slightest insight that this was anything to be concerned about.

However, after a few days of floating high on cloud nine, my husband Ivan had to gently tug me down to discuss the possibility that my emotional state was perhaps a bit beyond the ‘normal’ range.  Until he pointed it out, I hadn’t realized that I was showing some rather out of character behavior such as talking nonstop (not just usual wife chatter, but literally rambling on like a runaway train that couldn’t slow down).  It was a rude awakening to realize that the emotional high I was so thoroughly enjoying, was actually more of a manic state that was somewhat concerning. 

We chatted these mood issues over with one of my midwives at my 5-day in-home check-up and she agreed that it was probably something that needed to be addressed proactively since it would likely result in some sudden mood drops.  She suggested some natural remedies, such as Rescue Remedy Bach Flower, Valerian root tincture, and Coffeea homeopathic medicine, which I found very helpful in stabilizing my mood.

Despite now realizing that my manic days were somewhat unhealthy, I am thankful that I experienced them for several reasons.  First of all, since I work in the field of mental health therapy, it was helpful to experience even a glimpse of what someone with manic depressive (or bipolar) disorder might feel.  I now have a better understanding of why someone with this diagnosis might resist medications (since the manic phase can feel so exhilarating that it’s hard to give up).  Likewise,  my brief experience with this manic state helps me to see ‘mental illness’ in a uniquely positive light.  I can understand why some cultures value community members with these types of characteristics, since they have a skillset that can serve both as survival tools and the foundation for inspirational thinking.  In addition, even though many of my racing thoughts were a bit far-fetched, some of them were pretty intelligent.  In fact, much of the content of this blog is based on pages of scribble notes that I jotted down in between feeds, or wrote for several hours straight when I couldn’t sleep at night.  Okay, so I may have thought I was writing the contents of a best-selling book...but at least the ideas were there : )

Returning from the honeymoon

So just two short weeks into my return to work, my honeymoon phase seems to be slowly evaporating into thin air.  I spent my first few days convincing others, and probably myself, that I was 100% happy to be back at work.  When other mom co-workers would stop me in the hallway to ask if I was okay without Mariah, I almost had to hold in laughter and a cynical “Mariah who?”.  I don’t think I was in denial or faking, I just honestly felt great and lacked the self-awareness to know that my extreme excitement couldn’t possibly last forever.

In retrospect, I think that moving quickly from chronic social withdrawal and isolation into daily outings was a welcomed change initially.  I was so busy enjoying driving without screams from the backseat and going out for lunches, that I probably forgot that work is called work for a reason.  As my schedule is starting to pick up and stress tension is creeping back into my shoulders, I’m starting to remember what the ‘real world’ can actually be like sometimes.  I’m getting less excited to be driving, and more frustrated to sit in traffic; less enthusiastic about finding an outfit and more aggravated when my pre-pregnancy clothes don’t fit; and less eager to leave the house in the morning since I want to squeeze in more time with Mariah.  She’s starting to tug at my heartstrings too since she refuses to wave goodbye to me and instead holds onto me for dear life and waves to Ivan as if to say ‘dad, you’ve been a great sport…but I’m ready for mom to stay home again!’.

The good news is, despite all of my whining, I have no regrets and probably still like my job more than the average person (I’m not just saying that because my boss reads my blog : )  Most people I vent to assure me that this is all part of the natural process of adjusting into a new work-life balance.  It’s a good reminder that the grass always seems greener on the other side, but that if you focus on being mindful of the present and thankful for the positive things in life – the grass beneath you will start looking just as green.  I am so grateful that Ivan has chosen to take some parental leave since I can’t imagine dealing with returning to work and placing Mariah in childcare at the same time.  That stage will arrive in a few short months, and we’ve found someone wonderful who will take great care of our baby…but I’m glad I can deal with one step at a time.

Ironically, my recent lack of insight about this temporary ‘high’ reminds me a bit of how I felt immediately post-partum.  I think part of the reason I’ve been postponing writing about my mood changes on this blog is that I kept waiting for them to be ‘over’.  But I’ve learned that the first year and beyond can all be categorized as part of a ‘post-partum adjustment’ that often involves a number of complex and constantly evolving mood shifts.  So after much stalling, I think that this post is the perfect segway into an upcoming series of entries about my mood experiences thus far.  So stay tuned!

The Switcheroo

Before becoming a mom, I sometimes used to wish that my family could afford to live on one income so that I could be a stay-at-home mom.  But then again, I used to think a lot of crazy thoughts about parenthood before becoming a parent!  Don’t get me wrong – I don’t look down on parents who choose to be home with their kids.  In fact, it’s just the opposite.  I have realized over the past several months that staying home to raise a family is the hardest job anyone could ever have, and I give credit to those who can manage it.  However, after several months of mixed emotions on the topic, I have finally admitted to myself that I was not cut out to be at home full-time.  I love being a mom, but to be honest, I didn’t always ‘like’ being a stay-at-home one. 

As I’ve reflected about before on this blog, I’m a task-oriented person who needs a certain level of structure and predictability in my day-to-day life.  And apparently I didn’t read the fine print when I signed on to be home with Mariah, since those were not actually in the job description.  While some moms dread the end of their maternity leave, I had a strong urge to return to work about halfway through mine.  There were lots of factors that made it tough to be home: feeling isolated without a 2^nd car, being trapped indoors during bad weather, and dealing with my post-partum mood (which is on the top of my blogging priority list and I promise to get to one of these days!).  I envied Ivan’s ability to be a parent when he was home, but also have the escape of adult-life when he was at work.  At first I felt guilty about wanting time away from Mariah, but have realized that it’s a very normal thing to want a career outside of the home, to create a sense of balance.

Lucky for me, while I was busy envying Ivan’s life, he was busy doing the same.  In some ways, I wanted to hand him parental leave as payback, like ‘fine, you think it’s so easy…then enjoy’!  But to be honest, Ivan has done a great job of validating how hard being home with a baby is, and how much he appreciated me for doing it.  And for any of you who know Ivan, you know it would be unfortunate if he didn’t have an opportunity for some parental leave.  Ivan is a rare breed of man – the type that not only enjoys cooking, cleaning, and taking care of a baby, but is also amazing at all of those tasks!  In fact, my sister-in-law & I sometimes complain to each other about how our husbands make domestic work look so easy it hurts our ego.  But I suppose that really isn’t a marital issue to complain over, is it? 

So with Mariah being 9 months old and essentially weaned from breastfeeding, we decided that I would return to work and let Ivan take the last 3 months of parental leave.  Just one week into our new lives – we are all much happier people.  I feel great to put on something other than pajamas or sweats in the morning…and am actually motivated to wear a bit of makeup and attempt to be somewhat fashionable, despite having minimal interest (and skill) in either of those pre-baby.  Driving, making phonecalls, going to meetings, and even doing paperwork, bring me a sense of identity beyond being a mom.  I’m sure a lot of my comfort in returning to work also has to do with the fact that I am at ease knowing Mariah is in good hands with her dad at home.  Ivan is a teacher through and through, so I usually return home to witness his impressive skills at making anything into a game.  And needless to say, Mariah is having a ball with her new best friend too.  Whereas she used to cling to me, she is now quickly developing an equally strong and important bond with her daddy.  Her face lights up when she sees him and she always has a smile for him.

I’m sure life will become a bit more overwhelming and stressful when we’re both working in a few months.  But for now, I’m enjoying the luxury of a smooth transition opportunity for the three of us.

Asleep at last

After 9 long months, our family is finally basking in the luxury of full night's sleeps.  Before Mariah arrived, Ivan and I weren't exactly sure where we wanted her to sleep.  We both have fond memories of sleeping in our parents' beds, so we wanted that same coziness but also bought a bassinet and crib just incase.  The night Mariah was born, the midwives asked us where she would be sleeping and Ivan & I both looked at each other unsure of the answer.  She was so tiny and fragile that we wanted to keep her as close as possible, but were also a bit scared of squooshing her in our bed.  We ended up keeping her nestled between us, and there she stayed for many months to follow.  At first I told myself that I would move her to the bassinet once I recovered from childbirth, since it was physically difficult to get up for each feed.  But by that time, she (and we) had become so used to co-sleeping that it was nearly impossible to peel Mariah away from us.  In fact, even when we placed her in the middle of our bed as a newborn, she would somehow find a way to squirm her way over to mommy for cuddles at night.  Since co-sleeping is very 'normal' in our culture, our families assured us that it was perfectly fine, while others warned us that it was the worst thing we could do.  As an impressionable and indecisive person, I was emotionally torn and felt like I was 'failing' at the job of getting Mariah into her crib.

Over the last several months, our sleeping arrangements have taught me that, like most parenting practices, there really is no right or wrong.  Now, I'm a black and white thinker who thrives on following rules and specific instructions.  So needless to say, this realization has been a challenge for me.  But the I am learning that there are benefits and consequences to every option, and that parents need to make the decision that works best for themselves and their children.  The benefits of co-sleeping include priceless bonding, a sense of reassurance for baby and her parents, and our doula even told us that it has been proven to reduce SIDS since a mother's breath helps circulate that of her baby.  This last piece is highly controversial since public health insists that co-sleeping is an unsafe practice due to the possibility of suffocation or injury.  I would never argue that they are completely wrong, since some studies have proven an increased risk in certain situations, like when a parent is obese or under the influence...but I don't think it's fair to cast co-sleeping with a blanket statement (pun intended) of being unsafe either.  As with many other practices, (like midwifery for example!), co-sleeping has been done safely in various indigenous and traditional cultures around the world for ages and is finally starting to receive recognition in North America.

However, one major challenge of co-sleeping is that it can make it tough for nursing moms to sleep.  As Mariah grew, she learned that if she bullied me enough at night, I would give-in and breastfeed her.  When teething started at four months, she began to wake every hour or two...which meant I had to wake every hour or two.  And since every minute of sleep is crucial for a new mom's mood and energy levels (which I promise to blog about one of these days)...we decided to try transitioning Mariah to her crib around six months.  We started by using an attachment method in which you go to baby each and every time she cries to settle her, with the hope that her need for reassurance will diminish.  Throughout Ivan's summer holidays, we gave it our best - taking turns waking all night, but nearly 2 months later - no such luck.  Mariah continued to wake throughout the night and I was too exhausted to continue tending to her, so I gave up and she returned to our bed for another few weeks. 

Just when I was at my wits end, I heard from some friends that Dr. Ferber, who had made a name for himself in the 80s with his controversial sleep training program, had written a new book that was a bit less harsh.  Ferber's "progressive waiting" approach involves putting baby in her crib when she's sleepy and leaving her alone for an increasing number of minutes each night so that she learns to fall asleep on her own.  It was definitely torture to hear Mariah crying her heart out and then walking into her room to check on her, only to leave her again.  But sure enough, after just one weekend, Mariah learned how to sleep through the night in her own crib.  In fact, she even seems relieved these days when she's dozing off and we lay her down on her familiar blanket.  I still take naps with her to squeeze in some extra cuddle time, and we hope to have some cozy family slumber parties in the future when she understands that it's just a treat.  But for now, the three of us seem to be much happier and better rested with Mariah in her crib.  I'll try not to jinx myself, since I realize we may have some hiccups down the road with teething and colds.  But if this week is any indication of Mariah's resilience, we're doing alright: we're on vacation visiting Grandma and Mariah is sound asleep in her playpen...hence the opportunity to blog!