Mommy Confessions: The Dark Side

In the two and a half months since I last wrote, my daughter was born, my parents have come to the states and gone back home, my sister got married, my son turned two, and my daily life has become entirely unpredictable and chaotic (at times). While the months leading up to my precious baby's birth felt endless--especially the last four weeks--the weeks since her birth (seven, by the way) have been a complete whirlwind. Seven weeks have never gone by faster. But in those seven weeks, I've discovered something about myself: I don't like newborns. Now don't take that the wrong way. I love my baby girl. I absolutely love her. But I absolutely can't stand the newborn phase. And I'll be honest, Raelyn isn't a super difficult baby. She actually sleeps very well at night and overall, is a pretty relaxed, calm baby. And quite honestly, my feelings have far less to do with her and more to do with newborns in general. So let's take a little walk through my anti-newborn feelings, shall we? I know you're excited.

• There's no consistency. I don't necessarily need every hour scheduled, but it's really hard to keep a toddler entertained without ever leaving the house because the baby needs a nap every 45 minutes. Except for, you know, TV. Which, believe me, Logan has watched in great abundance. Hours. Every day. Mommy of the year, right here. 
• You can't reason with a newborn. As I'm typing this, my dear husband is driving around with Raelyn because she was screaming bloody murder. She decided not to take her usual long (2 to 3 hour) afternoon nap, so she was overtired. But instead of staying calm and nursing or enjoying the swaying of her swing, she was just screaming. Red faced, nothing would calm her down screaming. And since Travis offered to pick up my fifth antibiotic since giving birth (more on that momentarily), he said he'd take her with him and see if she'd sleep in the car or Ergo carrier in the store. Since he's not home yet, I assume it's working. [Nobody wants to walk around a store or drive endlessly with a screaming infant. Even my chill, nothing gets him rattled, husband.] I've become so accustomed to reasoning with Logan (not that it always works, but sometimes it does) when he cries, that it's hard to remember that Raelyn doesn't understand anything I say. 
• My body hates postpartum. I had mastitis (a breast infection, just in case you didn't know) three times with Logan. It was excruciatingly painful and took me until six weeks postpartum to feel better. It felt like an eternity. So this time, I was convinced that I knew what to do differently. I knew how to nurse and pump and heal any nipple cracks--everything was going to be fine. Then one week in, I saw the first signs of mastitis. Redness and heat. Called the doctor, got on an antibiotic, and the redness and heat went away in a couple days. I knew--I just knew that I'd beat mastitis this time and I was thrilled. I found a way to heal my nipple cracks by the time I was three weeks postpartum and figured I was good to go. But then my postpartum body scoffed at my over confidence. I woke up from a nap with an extremely tender hard spot on my breast that rivaled labor pains. I thought it was a clogged duct, but after nearly three days of trying to unclog it, nothing had worked. I started getting chills and fever, and saw a lactation consultant who told me to go see my doctor. I started another antibiotic and...nothing. By the end of my two weeks on the meds, nothing had changed. I was then referred to a general surgeon. He found an abscess in my breast and did a needle aspiration on it. You want to know what's worse than a needle in your spine for an epidural? That's right, a giant needle in your breast. And then I started another antibiotic only to get a call today saying that I need to switch antibiotics. I have another appointment tomorrow morning with the surgeon, and I'm hoping and praying that I don't need another aspiration.. but more than that, I don't want surgery. Did I mention that my body hates postpartum? 
• Spit up. I hate the spit up. Endless stinky spit up. Everywhere.
• Endless nursing. I feel like a cow. 
• I'm all jiggly. A big belly while you're pregnant is cute and round and expected. A jiggly, squishy belly after the baby, while perhaps expected, is no fun. 

I know I'm making new mommy-hood sound horrible. But really, all the early newborn misery is worth it. Also, my postpartum experience is not normal. According to the endless articles I've read about mastitis and abscesses, only about 10% of breastfeeding mothers get mastitis. And only 3% of those women get abscesses. So that means that in a room of 1,000 breastfeeding moms, only three will get abscesses. I'm a lightning rod for these things, but apparently most people are safe. Also, I know a lot of people that love the newborn phase. They love the sleepy, cuddly baby phase. And some babies don't spit up as much as mine do. And some mothers love the long nursing sessions. And some women are only jiggly for a week or two. Or not at all. So if you're reading this and you're either expecting a baby or plan to have one in the future and I've made it sound like the worst thing in the world, just remember that these things are mostly only true for me. I stand by my claim that newborns are inconsistent and unreasonable, but most people know that going in. Plus, Logan was actually easy to take places. He would fall asleep in the car constantly and would sleep for hours. Raelyn doesn't like her carseat, rarely falls asleep in the car, and if she does, she wakes up as soon as we stop the car. Every baby is different. Raelyn sleeps a lot at night. Three, four, almost five hours in a row sometimes. Logan didn't do that. He was an all-night nurser. Every two hours from when he started nursing. So when he nursed for half an hour, I then got to sleep for no more than an hour and a half before he wanted to eat again. 

Needless to say, I'm in the thick of it right now. I'm ready for this abscess to heal. I'm sick of taking endless medications. I want to be able to go grocery shopping again. I want Logan to watch less TV and have less tablet time. (But what's a mom to do when the baby won't sleep in the living room or anywhere near big brother because he's so incredibly loud and talks constantly? This mom turns on an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and then leaves and nurses the baby to sleep in the bedroom with the door closed, lights off, sound machine blaring, and hopes beyond all hope that her toddler isn't doing something crazy. And that he won't come in the room and wake up the baby.) 

And someday this will all end. I don't know when that day will come, but it will. I won't remember any of this. I'll just have a beautiful, healthy daughter out of it.