Worry...is it productive?

WORRYING does not take away tomorrow's troubles; it takes away today's PEACE ~ Author unknown


When wearing the marred lens that PPD places in front of our eyes and minds it is easy to believe that our worries are accomplishing something.  That anticipating all that you are convinced could and will go wrong will somehow prevent the consequences of that fall out.  

The truth is that worrying almost never changes a darned thing about the outcome, and in fact serves only one purpose.  To steal your ability to be present.  In fact, scientific research has proved time and time again that the vast majority (something like 90%) of people's worries either never actually occur or do take place but at a severity much less than they had anticipated.  

When I think about it like that it seems pretty obvious how wasteful it is to use my time in that way.  If only it were that easy, though, huh?

I come from a long line of worriers.  My grandmother was a worrywart who controlled her anxiety by keeping a very limited agenda that was stagnant for as long as I knew her.  Every Wednesday she took a taxi into "town" and got dropped at the exact same corner.  From there she would walk to all of the destinations she frequented weekly.  In exactly the same order.  Post office, drug store, newspaper stand, liquor store, and then back to the same spot exactly two hours later to be picked up by the same cab driver.  "Take me directly home", she'd say.  And unless my neglectful and mentally ill mother actually got her act together enough to get my grandmother to the grocery or take us all to church on Sunday, that was it for my grandmother's outings each week.  Two pieces of toast with seedless blackberry jelly.  Breakfast for my grandfather each morning.  Yellow cake, no icing.  Dessert every single day of the man's life.  In the end when she was overcome by Alzheimer's the poor guy wound up eating yellow cake for every meal day after day because it was all she could remember how to make.

My mother...well, y'all already know that tale.  An alcoholic by way of self-medicating her anxiety. 

I come by my worries honestly.  Anxiety is hereditary from a genetic and an environmental perspective.  Yet, I want to stop that cycle.  I want my children to observe a family environment that is functional, at least from the standpoint of flexibility and enjoyment of the precious life God has given us.  When we find ourselves wrought with anxiety, we are robbed of the moment.  And really...what else in life is guaranteed?  The past is behind us and the future is unknown.

Some of us will require more practice, and maybe even therapy or medication to learn to do this.  But what better gift can we give ourselves than to find joy and peace in the here and now?

Blessings,

Woe is me.

The world's smallest violin is playing for me today.  You know...for my pity party.

Lately I have been trying to ignore the nagging thought that keeps popping into my head time and time again.  The one that keeps being pushed away by rationales like "Oh, it's Summer.  Everyone is too busy at the swimming pool and on vacation to comment on my blog." or "There are so many great blogs out there now...there are just too many to keep up with!"

I hear from those of you who are thinking about conceiving again or are already expecting and you tell me how grateful you are I am doing well, with expectations and hopes of doing as well next time, yourselves.

At first, when L2 arrived safely during an amazing natural Cesarean, I heard from everyone!  Best wishes!  Congratulations!  So glad things are going well.  Then, on day three, when the proverbial you know what hit the fan, the awesome ladies of #PPDChat and my friends rallied around me.  Everyone offered to hold my hand, sent me messages and reassurance.

A few weeks later, after I began a much less intense than last time, but equally effective, treatment regimen, I rallied.  I began enjoying motherhood, rolled with the punches and spent a great deal of time laughing, having quickly found my sense of humor again and resuming my normal daily activities.  In fact, if I admit it, I actually feel great.  It's something that I'll have to discuss with my doctor when the time comes, because though I thought I felt "good" between the two boys when completely unmedicated, I know for sure I would have rarely said I felt "great".  In fact, when I think back, it seems like "fine" might have better described it.  Hmmmm...great sounds a heck of a lot better than fine, huh?  Yeah, I think so, too.

Anyway, In reality, I wonder if the real reason that the comments and retweets, etc. on my blogs posts are down is that reading about how great I am doing postpartum this time is just too darn hard when you are in the midst of PPD yourself.  I know that I am writing messages of hope and reassurance.  And, I know that to some they are helpful.  Yet, I remember distinctly how I couldn't even watch commercials for Windex when I was suffering.  Those stinking moms who managed three kids, a job, husband and house all the while windexing counters with perfectly manicured nails put me almost over the edge.  And those women were fictitious.  I, on the other hand, am very real.  And y'all know me.  If not personally, then virtually, and that counts, too.

I TOTALLY get it if you can't read Beyond Postpartum right now.  If you aren't buoyed by how much I am mourning the loss of my newborn because I am just so attached to him this time.  If you don't want to hear it.  If you are so sick and tired of everyone in your "real" life being fine that you just don't care to read about another person who is fine, too.  But, on the other hand, if you want to keep reading, but just want me to write about other things, specific topics, like which books are helpful when suffering, or how to handle a panic attack or self-care strategies, then just tell me.  Please.  I want to be helpful to you, and if you don't comment or write to me, I won't know how.

Much love,

1/4 of a year

L2 is three months old today.  When I anticipated this "momentous" milestone day when L1 was a newborn and then again as I thought about the postpartum period when I was expecting L2, I expected to be breathing my first real breath of motherhood to two children only just at this point.  For me, Harvey Karp's notion of the "fourth trimester" was a scary prospect.  The sleep deprivation, the unknowns about your new family member and the lack of routine made me more than a little anxious.  Add to that what I perceived as the inevitable PPD, and you have a recipe for a time period that you anticipate will be wrought with dreams of longing for the future and daily reminders of "This, too, shall pass.".

Nothing pleases me more (in an odd way) than to say that most of that was not true for me.  Instead of being grateful that the first 3 months of my baby's life are behind me, I am mourning the loss of my newborn.  I am longing to freeze, instead of fast-forward through, time so I can hold onto my last experience with birthing and then caring for a teeny-tiny human being that I grew inside myself...right there in the space I look down at each day as I work at my computer and remember how big it was just a few weeks ago.  Sure, I'm glad to have my body "back", but I won't ever feel those tiny kicks or movements of this little miracle inside me again.  And I won't ever experience again the awe of holding someone that you've loved for months, but only known for days.

I am incredibly blessed and will forever be grateful for such a positive postpartum experience this time.  Unmarred by physical complications or serious PPD and Anxiety, and filled with the joy of instantly bonding with my baby it seems that in the midst of all that is wrong in the world at large, all is right in my little world.  That, my friends, is a glimpse of Heaven on earth that will be short-lived.  So I sit here and revel in it for just a short while, as it will soon be a part of my past.

Our mothering choices do not define who we are as people or parents

I don't need to tell you how strongly I feel about, or perhaps I should say against, parents, specifically mothers, who spend their time judging and discussing the choices of other parents.  We know that debates pop up on an almost daily basis on parenting websites, blogs, and even in newspapers about how to feed, sleep, diaper, and discipline your children...just for starters.  The writers will often purport a particular benefit to his/her point of view and then the comments below the article will generally be filled with equally positive and negative responses in reference to the topic.

As mothers we've gotten away from supporting and helping one another unlike women of generations before who helped to raise their sister's, cousin's, daughter's and even neighbor's children.  They worked together with a common goal...a healthy and happy child.  I believe we've lost track completely of that common goal and that motherhood has become more like combat than community.

In a little book I keep on hand, but have never read cover to cover, entitled Dojo Wisdom for Mothers, the author, Jennifer Lawler writes in #3 of what she calls "100 Simple Ways to Become a CALMER, HAPPIER, More LOVING Parent", that we should "respect all mothering choices".  That's kind of a foreign concept in Atlanta in 2011, but one that I yearn for both from the outside world and within myself, so I read on.  Within this chapter Lawler discusses the division that specific labels have created in our society.  No longer are we "mothers" or "parents", but stay-at-home-moms, special-needs parent, working dad, single parent or custodian.  On top of that, we're baby-wearers, co-sleepers, attachment parents, supporters of CIO or not, cloth diaperers...on and on and on it goes.  It's exhausting even to consider all the labels that I hear on a weekly basis.

Later in the chapter, the author utilizes her experience and education as a martial arts instructor in describing and instilling an important and confident philosophy into her students and readers.  She says, "No matter what choice you make as a mother, remember that you are worth defending."  She contends that we can and should, stand up for ourselves.  Learning to set boundaries, demanding respect and feeling stronger about our decisions results in becoming less likely to be bullied or attacked.  Perhaps you've never considered someone sneering at you for pulling out a bottle in a coffee shop, while the "Judge Judy" nurses her two year old, as an attack, but it's just as detrimental to your psyche and motherhood experience as any other type of attack would be to you.  Lawler says that whatever choices we've made for ourselves and our families, "You've made the right choice for you- it's no one else's business."  I agree with her.

But it doesn't stop here.  Not only do we need to respect our own choices and demand boundaries from those around us, but we need to respect the choices other mothers make, too.  While I find myself lamenting and even chastising those who judge others, I would be lying if I didn't admit to sometimes judging others myself.  Sure, I don't glare at bottle-feeding moms or those who use disposable diapers, because I am one of them.  But...I do tend to roll my eyes when I see parents who have toddlers out and about at 10pm.  "My children are tucked into bed and have been for hours", I think to myself.  Really?  I need a reality check, too.  Who knows what is happening in that family...perhaps one of the parents works shifts and would never get to see their kids if they didn't go to bed later and get up later in the morning than my kids.  What do I care?

Bottom line?  Unless someone is physically or emotionally harming their child, we have no right to judge or get involved.  If only we spent as much effort fine-tuning our own parenting skills as we did judging others the world would be a better...and certainly nicer, place to live.

How much...

How much different this time is from the last time.
How much I am enjoying every moment of maternity leave...and we're down to counting hours left.
How much I both ache and celebrate each milestone of this newborn phase that is achieved.
How much I adore being a mama to two boys.
How much I long to live forever in the moments of laughter and sweetness between the brothers.

When I put L2 to bed each night I cherish snuggling him and nuzzling the soft, freshly washed hairs that tickle my nose as I hold him close in the last moments before placing him in his crib.  Tonight I realized that I am the only person on this earth to have ever done this.  In his eleven weeks and one day of life no other human being has laid him down and kissed him goodnight.  And, instead of dreading that ritual, I revel in it each day.

Perhaps it's that he's been here just under three months and it will get old at some point.  Perhaps this time I have what a reader once called the "cling to your baby kind of PPD".  Perhaps.

But, maybe, just maybe, this is how it is supposed to be.