Now that Finn’s hit the six-month mark it seems as good a time as any for some honest reflection.
Here’s a brief rundown of the past six months, according to my mombod:
It’s January and Finn is already a week overdue. I have a friend with a diamond mind and she says the baby just doesn’t want to leave my uterus because it’s a pudding-filled Jacuzzi .
All around me my preggy friends are delivering early, and I feel like a disgusting, sweaty, insomniac meatball. I’m also damn curious to know if it’s a boy or a girl, so the the wait is agonising.
I’m loving my silhouette though 🙂
Egad. I am in no way prepared for the pain. Mom, you lied. Admit it.
From the get-go I’m freaked out, and 8 hours into the tough stuff I opt for the epidural. 4 hours later Finn is born with the help of a vacuum thingie. He wiggles out covered in blood and poop, we discover he’s a boy and he has a nom on my breast.
(I will share my birth story at some point, but this is not that post.)
((You know the whole “throwing a sausage down a hallway” vibe? It’s bollocks))
Such was the flatness of my chest that, growing up, my brothers called me Surfboard, Mosquito Bites, Bee stings, and when they were feeling particularly kind: Noombies. Understandably, I’ve been looking forward to having impractically large breasts.
But, when my milk comes in they’re hard as rocks and my hub and I are genuinely concerned that they’ll explode. I do enjoy admiring them from all angles though when I have time to shower. (Shower time is sacrosanct; a post-birth ritual that I totally took for granted before I had a baby)
Alas, my boobal magnificence is short lived. My superhero chesticles are not long for this world. I am doomed to be oddly racked.
When Finn is a month-and-a-half old I have emergency surgery to remove a gigantic abscess. As a result, I’m left with one weird shrunken Frankenboob, while the other side picks up the slack, turning into Superboob; one boob to rule them all. I am so lopsided that I walk in circles when I don’t concentrate.
On the bright side, I can keep breastfeeding on the super side and my little man gets rounder and squishier every day.
Two months in and I’m just worn down. My body feels weak after the birth, the episiotomy and the breast surgery. My emotions are ALL over the place, I miss my mom and I’m not coping. I feel like a failure because I had an epidural, and because I’ve not taken to motherhood like some people do.
Sometimes I think that if Finn dies in his sleep it’ll be for the best.
It’s not a good place to be and I know I need help.
After seeing a doctor, and then getting a second opinion, I’ve decided to go on a course of SSRIs. This decision in itself is pretty tough because I’ve always been conflicted about anti-depressants. But right now I need to keep it together; I need to take care of this little life.
I am so grateful for the help.
And now that I’m not brought to tears at the sight of my freak-show breasts, now that I can make simple decisions like “Coffee or tea?” without losing it, I’m starting to see how awesome my child is. Damn, he’s so freaking awesome.
Sometimes, at night, the hubber and I joke about going into his room and waking him up just so that we can all hang out together.
In fact I like him so much I even have a list of my favourite moments:
- When I check to see that he’s still breathing, and he is
- When he smiles at his dad
- When I go to fetch him after a nap and he grins up at me like a gummy Cheshire cat
- When I pick him up and he latches onto my chin
- When he’s done feeding and pops off my breast with a happy sigh
- When he falls asleep in my arms
- When he giggles
- When he lies awake making fart noises instead of napping
This list grows every day.
It’s taken me months to get used to being a mom, and now I’m loving it so much that I don’t want to do anything else.
For a while it was difficult to get used to the change in pace. Going from managing a team at a busy marketing agency to stay-at-home momming has been a major shift. But, I tells ya, I get more satisfaction from seeing my boy smile at Incy Wincey Spider than I ever did from nailing a client brief.
In fact, as I type this Finn’s doing pushups and making pterodactyl noises, and I’ve never been more content in my life.