Seeing Through the Cracks

Chapter 3

     My husband, Brian, and I knew early in our relationship that we wanted to have a family together. There was no question we would try to make this happen. And upon hearing that we were pregnant with our first child, we were filled with joy. We were finally going to create a family and begin a new chapter together. It was very exciting. I'd be lying if I didn't say that there was also a weighted sense of concern.

Neither of us was really confident that we were equipped to be parents. We were unsure that we had the tools to make it work and not screw it up. I would hazard a guess that this reaction is normal for most people. None of us embark on parenthood with complete confidence that it's going to be perfect, unless all of the romanticism presented around it in the film and literary industries has convinced us otherwise.

My entire nine months of gestation were challenging. I gained only eighteen pounds total, making my obstetrician unhappy, but not particularly distressed. Although my body's blood circulation was thriving and flowing, providing me a warm glow, my digestive system was anything but thrilled. Food was not my friend, and as the months continued and my belly grew, it became more difficult to find anything for breakfast and lunch that didn't force itself back up mere moments later. Thankfully, by evening, my digestion settled, and dinner, at least, would remain in my system. I was losing some of my own body fat but the baby was flourishing inside, and neither of us was in any real danger of malnutrition. I was definitely not going to have to deal with any post-partum weight, and I still maintained a degree of health that carried me to full labour and delivery.

What attracted me to my husband were his kind eyes and his sense of humour, and the fact that he could talk about any subject with great interest and enthusiasm. I value his opinion and look for comfort in his knowledge. He never surrenders an opportunity to share his quick and sharp wit. He's a joker and loves to laugh, and so do I. And this is what got us through the hours of labour and delivery. He was quick to learn how to be the most helpful support during my pregnancy, labour, and delivery.

It's no accident that they call it labour; giving birth to a baby is extremely focused and hard work. Brian had me, the nurses, and the doctors in stitches, laughing throughout the big event and, believe me, his humour was a greatly-needed gift when things got really intense. And when our first-born son finally arrived we both openly sobbed with overwhelming delight.

Nicholas arrived as an early Christmas present, the second week of December. He was four days past his due date, and seemingly hungry to make up for lost time. And I do mean hungry; he was a demanding newborn, looking to feed every two hours, around the clock for the first several weeks. I became quite exhausted and much panicked about how I was going to manage this kind of care on so little rest. He was a beautiful baby, and I instantly fell madly in love. I wanted so badly to do this motherhood thing to the best of my ability. During my pregnancy I read every book I could get my hands on, and now I was searching for more answers, and asking questions of other moms I knew. But the pressure was colossal, and as time passed and my baby's needs became greater, I just began to feel inadequate.

Brian worked long hours and because of his career, as an aviation engineer, travelled often. My parents lived on the other side of the country, and Brian's parents were enjoying their retirement wintering in sunny Florida. Our home was in a rural area, separating our neighbours by our five-acre property. I was alone and lonely, and at times frustrated with myself. I wanted it all to be smooth and easy and it was anything but. No one can really prepare you for motherhood, and it can quickly become overwhelming. That's not to say that there weren't many moments of extreme happiness, but I soon realized that I was not equipped to do this, and that it would be a struggle. Frustration and anger were overriding my happiness, and this is not what I imagined myself feeling as a new mom. The dream was becoming a nightmare and I was losing control.

Just before Nicholas's first birthday, I booked an appointment with my family doctor, and through tears of shame and fear I confessed that if I didn't get some help I was afraid I would hurt my baby or my husband, or both. A good night's sleep had become a thing of the past, and my days were spent in a daze of fatigue, surrendering my own personal needs for that of my child's. I was diagnosed with Post-Partum Depression, and the doctor made arrangements for me to start seeing a counsellor. This action saved my life, and provided me with the support and the eventual tools for me to manage motherhood in a healthier, more positive manner. I saw the therapist every week for a full year, and I did my homework. I learned to put up boundaries for myself and lower my own expectations; I learned to be more self-nurturing, and take the time to rest, as I needed it, during the day. I didn't have to be Super Mom. I needed to be more self-accepting, and be satisfied with doing the best that I could. And things eventually started to get easier. I felt much happier. But, there were still moments when that Super Mom cape needed to be worn to avert disasters.

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