Nesting

Maya and I went to the Library today to pick up a book that my dear friend kindly recommended to me: A Child is Born by Lennart Nilsson and Lars Hamberger. Little did she know how deeply this book would disturb me. I'm sure it's intended to show the reality and scope of the human procreative experience, but there are some details I am not ready to face again.

Isn't that the most idyllic depiction
of what it means to have a baby?
It couldn't be more perfect unless
there were a madonna with child.

The agony on the woman's face during childbirth combined with the dissertation on physical pain and medical descriptions of pain relief and how they affect woman and child terrified me. When I was pregnant with Maya, I did not face that reality - truly my greatest fear at the time - until the birthing classes we took in the third trimester and then again when the pain was imminent and at the forefront of my mind because baby was coming and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Stepping over that threshold terrifies me more now than it did then. With Maya, I feared the physical pain of birth. So many women have said you don't remember the pain, but I do. However, I learned of a far greater pain to fear: Postpartum Depression.

Knowing what I know now, knowing that it's a short step over the threshhold of PPD to Postpartum Psychosis, and knowing my high risk factor for crossing either of those threshholds, I am pushing myself into a state of panic.

So, how am I coping with the ever increasing reminders of what will soon be my reality? Here are a few lessons I've implemented recently and how they will help me muddle through this challenging time.

Focus on the present. Each day, I'm finding it more and more difficult to ignore my fear. Instead of ignoring it, I'm trying to meditate, clear my mind, and focus on what is happening at the present moment. Today, as my mind raced and whirled, I took a deep breath and looked up into the beautiful brown eyes of my very present, very tangible little girl and helped her build the Lego car and village she wanted. When my back and glutes began to scream at me to get up off the floor, I was pleasantly surprised to see the time had flown by.

Focus on what I can control. Preparation will be the key to my survival. I have recently rejoined the FlyLady on her mission to help her followers learn to "Finally Love Yourself." I reached out to them today requesting guidance on how to inspire my dear daughter and dear husband to clean up after themselves because I know my own limitations and the complications that will further hinder my ability to effectively manage our household after the birth of dear daughter no. 2.

Their best suggestion: Create a manual that has everything my family needs to know about managing our lives. Where to find insurance information, how to refill prescriptions, how and when to care for the pets, menu ideas and recipes they can prepare when I am incapacitated. And so on.

I know - Brilliant, right?

It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to get done. My mom taught me all the "right" ways to clean my house and daddy taught me to strive for "perfection" in my work. My body is fatigued from the time I wake up until the time I force myself to go to bed. I have to take my kid's traditional nap time as my own instead of getting stuff done. 

Guess what? I'm not perfect. I vacuum, but I don't move furniture. I dust - with a rag and water. I use the toilet brush to swish the gunk away, and, darn it, that's good enough. The dishwasher's not full? Run that biotch anyway. Don't have a full load of laundry? Wash it anyway. My appliances are energy efficient. They can darn well handle it, and I don't have to wake up to Mt. Dishmore or the Leaning Tower of Laundry. The lawn looks like a jungle? Hey, at least it's green. Wanna come over and offer your neighborly assistance? Your yard looks mighty nice. Nudge. Nudge. Wink. Wink.

It won't take as long as you think. I sent out my pleas to a close set of friends for donations of baby
clothes and returns of loaned out toys and maternity clothes.

I'm organizing all of Lila's new and old clothes into reusable bags and labeling them by age: Newborn to 3 months, 3-6 months, 6-9, 9-12, 2T, 3T, 4T. It's been nostalgic to reminisce seeing Maya in some of these clothes and playing with some of these toys. I love to hear her ooh and aah about the cute baby clothes and tell me that Lila can have her clothes after she grows out of them one day. It's equally rewarding to know that I have a supportive group of women I can rely on to help me when I'm in need.

Acceptance. Empathy. Understanding. Then, of equal importance, is my life partner/husband/father of my child(ren). He doesn't talk much about feelings or do romantic things like rub my feet or bring me flowers. He doesn't pay me false compliments, only honest ones on (very) rare occasions. He works his tail off every day of the week putting in long hours at his job, coming home to sleep on the couch while I prepare supper and still try to keep the kiddo entertained without somehow losing my sanity completely.

I sat on the couch this evening with him, after Maya came out asking random questions for about the third time and we told her to go back to bed for the third time. She finally went to sleep all nestled in my bed on my pillow holding her Jasmine doll.

I started to complain to James about how I've been feeling, expressing my concerns over my body changing, my fears for the upcoming changes in our future. Lo and behold, he said nothing. He was doing something on his phone. Never even glanced up or acknowledged what I said.

Then, he turned on the TV. I moved into my favorite chair and started surfing Pinterest. I considered just going to bed. At least my kid wants my company.

He pulled up a new show on Netflix. A Netflix original series by Ricky Gervais called Derek. And, I'll be darned. I realized James was listening to me in his own way, and he was trying to communicate a very important message to me through his new favorite TV show. If you haven't watched it, yet, you should give it a try.

Derek is a person who focuses on the good in every situation. Without fail, even in the midst of tragic circumstances, he finds the good in people, believes the best of people, and, in demonstrating his own nature, somehow brings the goodness in them to the surface so others can see it, too.

Thank you, Ricky, for that brilliant show. And, thank you, Sadek husband, for communicating to me in your very unique language.

Together, we can survive the challenges we are about to face.

Together, we can build a strong home, life, and foundation for our family.