I started back at work 5 weeks postpartum and let me tell you…nursing (the profession) and nursing (breastfeeding) don’t go well together! In a 14 hr day I had the chance to pump one (maybe 2) times. It’s not really the “chance” to. I have to make myself stop what I am doing and go. I literally have to choose whether to pump or eat. I do paper work while I pump so I don’t get behind. I told my husband that I hope he likes saggy boobs because what goes up must come down…and being engorged for 5 hrs straight is not helping the matter!
I haven’t really had postpartum depression but I had a good breakdown this week. I will probably sound nuts, but I’m going to share this anyways. Since I’ve had Natalie, 3 of my friends have had babies…2 were born on the same day in fact! All 3 were born vaginally and none of the mommies got stretch marks. Even though I was supposed to be so happy for them, I felt this jealousy deep down inside that I couldn’t control. It then turned into this thought that I wasn’t supposed to be a mother because back in the day (before csections) I would have died in childbirth.
Now, a logical person would be happy for csections because it allowed me and my child to live through a child birth that wouldn’t have taken place. But, no…I continued to feel this negative feeling. Then, I couldn’t help but to think it (the csection) was caused by them inducing me. It was their fault. A logical person would think it’s a good thing that they induced me because my amniotic fluid levels were low. But no…I thought “well, they wouldn’t have even known if they wouldn’t have done that ultrasound at 39 weeks…none of my other friends had one done that late.” I mean, here I am with a perfectly healthy child wishing they wouldn’t have checked my fluid levels! Doesnt that sound pretty much insane?? I mean, I was crying my eyes out.
I can only explain it like this…a man who can’t have children feels like he has no manhood. Part of my womanhood felt like it was taken away when the “took” her out of me. I wanted to push her out and give birth to her. I have yet to say that I gave birth to her. I grew her and nourished her but I wanted to birth her….and my body has the battle scars. It makes me feel like less of a woman, I guess. And yes, maybe next time…but there wouldn’t have been a next time back in the day. (That’s the thinking pattern right now, and I do realize that it’s not optimistic but feelings are feelings).
Here are some photos of me before, during, and after the pregnancy. I’m 7 weeks postpartum.