One is the Loneliest Number

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ONE OF THE MANY SELFIES OF H AND I THAT I TOOK WHILE HOME ON MAT LEAVE, JUST THE TWO OF US.

There is a loneliness that comes with motherhood. Predominantly in the beginning, but even as time goes on… Before I had my son, everyone warned me of the pain that comes with C-Section recovery, the challenges of breastfeeding, how tired I would be, and how my hormones would affect my emotional/mental state, but nobody told me about the loneliness.

I recently visited a friend who just gave birth to her first child. The baby was beautiful and healthy, her recovery was better than normal, she looked amazing, and she was a natural in the mom dept., but when I asked her how she was feeling, she responded without hesitation, “I feel so alone.” And without even thinking, I just said, “I know.”

I did know exactly what she meant, precisely how she was feeling. Her sentiment instantly took me back to the second week I was home with my son, H. I was trying to feed him unsuccessfully, and had nobody there anymore to help me. Nobody to converse with; nobody to turn to. (Momsoncall.com became my life line!) There is so much attention on you when you’re pregnant – especially the first time. There’s 10 whole months of being fawned over and coddled and protected and celebrated, and then you have the baby and there are the days that follow when everyone visits, and there is still so much joy and excitement. But then, there is that first day when everyone, including your partner, is back to work, back to their daily lives, caught up in the grind, and there you are sitting alone with this little human who is solely depending on you for his/her survival. In that moment, you miss the commotion and the help and the attention and the company, and realize that not only are you alone, just the two of you, but you are kind of lonely.

For those new moms who might be feeling this way in this very moment, know that you actually are not alone in this feeling. It is so common, so don’t be scared of it. The loneliness sometimes brings on sadness – not to be confused with other signs of postpartum depression – and it passes. Quite frankly, you’re too busy and tired to let it consume you or wallow in it for too long, but it is very real and kind of sucks. All of your friends are at work, nobody can chat on the phone or just meet for coffee, and the only conversation you’re having is in high decibels with someone who doesn’t quite understand.

In time, I came to love the time alone. The loneliness turned into appreciation for the precious time I had to spend with my son. H became my best bud, and as a result of long days together, I was so in tune with what he wanted and needed. I realized that I needed this time – it made for a stronger bond between us. It made me a better mother. It also forced me to get out there and find other mothers with newborns to connect with. Through these connections, I learned that we all have similar experiences. Motherhood can indeed be lonely at times, but it’s a badge of honor that connects us in ways one cannot imagine. There is a mom tribe and a mom code. There is a language only we speak and things only we understand. The truth is, we actually are never alone… (Quite literally.)

 

 

Sleep No More

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Dear Sleep,

I simply cannot put into words how much I miss you. Mostly because sleep deprivation has resulted in the inability to form full sentences. I cannot wait for the day that you come back into my life for the full 8+ hours we used to share back in the day. Remember the days when we would hang out past 10am or even meet up sometimes in the afternoon?! Oh, those were the good ol’ days… Yes, you and I do meet at night for a few hours, but the intimate relationship we once had changed about three years ago, and it hasn’t quite been the same since. While I was pregnant, a full bladder or the discomfort of a huge belly interrupted us many times during the night. Then the baby came and, well, that was the end of our beautiful relationship.

Sleep when the baby sleeps is all anyone ever told me. Anyone without a baby! I mean, who were they kidding?! When the baby slept, that’s when I pumped, washed bottles, did laundry, hand washed dirty bibs and onesies… and if I was really lucky, ate something and showered. Sometimes I had to choose between you and food, or you and washing my hair—very difficult decisions. You often won, but as soon as the tip of a strand of my hair grazed my pillow, the baby cried.

This happened for months, and truth be told, the baby’s relationship with you became my #1 priority. If he could learn to sleep for more than 2-3 hour intervals, the sooner you and I would reunite—or at least I thought. Yes, 3 hours turned into 5, which turned into 8, and eventually 10-12. It wasn’t easy, and even when he did sleep all night, I did not. I had a physical reaction to every breath, cough, sneeze, and coo. I’d be up checking to see if he was breathing, too hot, too cold, still on his back, and a myriad of other things that keeps a mom awake at night. So, even when we could technically rendezvous again, I just couldn’t.

Cut to when H was about 18 months. We started seeing each other again, and life was good. I was early to rise, but it was okay because I was early to bed. We were finding our groove again, and the 8 hours I never thought I’d have the pleasure of getting became, quite literally, my dream come true. The days of feeling jet lagged and dizzy and uber emotional and super irritable and just utterly fucking exhausted were over. H was a great sleeper and our lives were back to normal.

My friends said I would sleep again and they were right. I even took naps when the baby napped! Life was golden, and I realized that you don’t really know what you have until you’ve lost it. I now know that you complete me. I cannot live my life without you. It’s just not possible. You make me a better person, a happier person. And a better mother for sure.

We had a good run. Then baby #2 came. So, it was great while it lasted. I hope that one day soon, we will find each other again and never let go. I can’t bear to even think about any more nights without you. I know we will meet again, in about a year or so. For now, I will just have to accept that I sleep no more…

Yours truly (as in truly exhausted),

Alexis