Hurdles

I've been off my antidepressants for about a week now, I think. It's hard to tell because time moves so strangely these days. Take today, for instance. It feels like I've only been awake for a few hours, but the day is gone. I feel like I've gotten nothing done, no writing, no cleaning, nothing. Yet, my body keeps telling me that I'm overdoing things. The postpartum lochia keeps coming back, strong and bright, the pains are getting stronger, untouched by my prescription of high-dose Advil. I'm exhausted, and I'm feeling defeated.

It doesn't have anything to do with Lorelai, who is brilliant and who I am madly in love with. She's really quite perfect, even when she insists on staying awake all night. She's everything a 3 week old baby should be, which can be challenging sometimes but I am wonderfully happy with the challenges she brings.

How could I not be, watching her make faces into the mirror during Tummy Time, or at the lens of my camera?

She brings a dimension of joy to my days, however short they seem to be. No, the problem is absolutely not her, but me.

I'm having a hard time piecing together if these feelings stem from my system clearing out from the Prozac or if I could be being hit with postpartum depression, or if what I'm feeling is just a truthful look at myself as a new mother. I can't even really feel comfortable calling myself a mother. I don't feel like a mom. I mean, I have a kid, and I adore her and love her with all my heart, but calling myself "mom" just feels too strange. I hope that's common and my brain just needs a little time to normalize the new status.

The hardest thing is my breastmilk issues. I'm pumping as often as I can, which I feel isn't as often as I should be, I'm taking fenugreek, I'm trying to drink as much water as I can, eating oatmeal, but it all seems like it's for nothing. I don't know if it's because I did better at pumping more often today, but it felt like I was getting less and less with each pumping session. All in all, I got about an ounce and a half today. Yeah, it's an ounce and a half more than she'd get if I'd just given up, and I know that every little bit helps, but it's so frustrating. I can't just blame it on my milk not coming in anymore. It's very obviously milk, and not colostrum.

Oh boy oh boy, breaking news. Amanda's body still doesn't work right. Stop the presses, or not. I don't know why I expected anything differently. And it's harder still to keep the will to pump often up when I get awful migraines every time I pump or nurse. Really, every time I pump. She's stopped latching to nurse, just growing frustrated that my breasts aren't as easy to drink from as the bottle.

I could just really use something going right with me, but it never does. The only good thing to ever come from me is my daughter, and even then my body nearly killed her in it's incompetence to nourish her in the womb. I wish I could take it as a triumph that she's healthy and happy right now, but really I think it's just because she's strong, and amazing, and has in her all the potential to shake the world.