Pregnancy Tales: The 4th Trimester and Postpartum

This post is different. This post is a collection of thoughts and feelings since Libby was born. So, it has been written over the span of 8 months.

The fourth trimester. 

“It’s for true,” in the words of my 6 (now 7) year old. 

This post has been a journal of entries in the notes app on my phone.

It’s not always pretty. 

It’s not all sweet baby smells and snuggles. 

And it’s certainly not always talked about. In fact, I had never heard of it until I lived it. 

We should be talking about it. 

In the days following Libby’s birth, I fully expected myself to bounce back. It took me more than a week to let it sink in that I needed to recover. I had had major surgery. I had been cut wide open and life pulled from within me. And literally a part of my body was now existing—breathing—on the outside. 

Truth is, I needed to let other people help and rest. I needed to heal. But, I would get frustrated from the pain or that I couldn’t do like I once did. 

In my slumber, I would constantly question audibly if Libby was still breathing. I was obsessed. So, obsessed and fearful that she slept on my chest as I sat up for the first 6-8 weeks of her life—maybe longer. 

Then there was breastfeeding. And I am still a little sad that my journey breastfeeding Libby is over and not by my choice.

But she is happy and healthy, right!?! This doesn’t make me less of a mother, right!?!? 

(Isn’t it crazy the lies we believe when we become mothers??)

The pressure is real. 

Mid-April: Tonight I had a complete meltdown. Complete. I understand why women/mothers lose it on cashiers over their orders being wrong or taking too long. I almost did. I almost lost it at Little Caesar’s Pizza. The only reason I was there was because they have hot-n-READY pizza. We waited in the car 30 minutes for a nasty pizza that I have yet to eat. The whole time Libby screamed. Screamed. And screamed. I cried. I cried. I cried. Gracee and Titus were confused and trying to help. I finally, with tears in my eyes, went into Little Caesars and prayed I wouldn’t lose it. When the man saw me, his face said it all. They had forgotten about us. So he gave us an extra pizza. I cried the whole way home. Libby cried off and on on the way home. I couldn’t stop crying.  Then I did. The kids were begging me to call Bebe saying I needed her to come over. (They weren’t wrong.) Get out of the car and I drop my ice water and I start crying uncontrollably again. Called Bebe. They came over and have just helped so I could get a few things done and shower. This is what people don’t tell you. Then I worried that Libby thought I was upset with her. This. Tonight. Right here. This is the ugly of postpartum. And stress. Or maybe it’s just stress.

I still have moments or days when I just feel out of my mind and just cry. And I can’t even say that the tears are sad, but more of a cathartic release. 

When she sleeps, I miss her.

But there has been progress in the 4th trimester. Of course, technically I guess I am out of it since she is knocking on 4 months. However, I do believe that this “trimester” lasts a lot longer than the three months its name allows. 

The swings are real. The need to sometimes just sit in a quiet room with no one needing you is real.

"Sleep when the baby sleeps" is the biggest load of crap. Literally, everyone tells you to do this, but in reality sometimes it is hard to sleep. Whether its worrying about her breathing, or wanting to just be awake without someone needing you, sleep is a distant friend these days.

There was one day recently Jimmie asked how I was. 

And I honestly couldn’t answer. It had been so long since I took that kind of evaluation.

Now, she just turned 7 months and I am writing an insert on this post. I am not sure the 4th trimester ever ends—does it?

I mean I sweat like I never have in my life. My deodorant—Can I just be real?? I had to keep trying different ones until I finally bought the prescription strength one. And well, it seems to be working. Finally.

Also, life is life now. I mean there’s no time and that is a big reason as to why I am so late in this post, but the other is because I am just not sure the 4th trimester ends. I’ve read that childbirth changes you. Simply put, I agree. I see the world differently. I feel differently—and its not a bad thing.

“Thoughts from the woman who went from a party of one to a party of four overnight:” I found this as a note in my phone.

That’s it.

That’s where it ended. 

It is such an accurate representation of life these days. By the time I have a moment to jot anything down, I am beyond exhausted. I would say tired, but tired is just a constant. I laugh that I ever said I was tired before this laugh. I mean life. See!! Thankfully, I at least tried to proofread. 

There are days when I still have dips of feeling like I don’t know who I am or recognize that reflection staring at me. There are days when everything annoys me and I don’t know why—days when the sound of my own sniff annoys me. 

I struggle with being so exhausted, but also enjoying the quiet house after all of the kids have finally fallen asleep when Jimmie works nights. 

Sure, Libby is 8 months old and we are adjusted to life with our spunky and active 8 month old. And the 4th TRI-mester should be over, Right?!

Well, its not. Is it better? Yes. I am not obsessively watching her sleep at night or making Jimmie get up because I dozed off. I am not sitting up in bed holding her tight to my chest to make sure she is still breathing. 

(Do I wake up and check on her though? Yep. I do.) 

I feel confident that Jimmie can take care of her just fine or other family members for that matter. There was a day when it was a battle for me. 

8 months. She is active and into everything. I am back at work, and I am not going to lie, even though the constant exhaustion is real, mentally, I feel better. I struggle with a new guilt, but I know she is well taken care of by my mom and her daddy. She sleeps most of the morning while I am at work, so that helps. 

I used to lay awake at night feeling her every move and I’d read and read about how she was developing. 

Now, I lay awake at night listening to her breathe and the sweet sucking noises she makes when she finds her fingers in her sleep. I drink in her smell and count the seconds knowing that one day all of this will seem like a distant memory. And that---that is hard in this 4th-mester. Maybe the 4th trimester is just a new way of life. Maybe its not a trimester at all, but just a new view of life. 

Speaking of life, here are some real life shots: 

But this one here:

 This entry is by far from perfect. In fact, I am not even sure it reads well, much less makes any sense. But, I am posting it. Maybe my two readers will read it, maybe not. I just know that I feel better posting it.
Until next time, Dearies!