Miscalculating motherhood.

When I was using substances, the thought of being a mom never crossed my mind. In my madness, I did many demoralizing acts that a mother should never do. I could hardly take care of myself, and I couldn’t fathom caring for another human being. Recovery has given me many gifts. I have been given the ability to love myself and my family, I am a productive member of society, I can use my story to help others find recovery. So many beautiful aspects of my life today are a direct result of remaining in long-term recovery. Of the many blessings I have been given, none compared to the beauty of motherhood.

When I became a mom, that was what I was meant to be. When I saw my daughter’s heartbeat for the first time, I knew that this was what I waited my entire life for. I read articles, watched videos, and did everything I possibly could to prepare myself for her arrival. The safe sleeping protocols, the newborn hacks, you name it. I was determined to be the best mom I could possibly be. Now, I don’t know what exactly I expected motherhood to be like, but I was in for a shock.

My birth experience was nothing like what I had planned for. I developed preeclampsia and my daughter stayed in the NICU for 20 long days. So, things were already off to a rough start. I immediately developed postpartum depression and anxiety. I went days without sleep, lost my job, wasn’t showering regularly, and went into survival mode. This lasted about 4 to 5 months, and I don’t remember much about my daughter’s newborn stage, but I do know that I was thrown for a loop.

We often don’t talk about the early days and months as new moms, and I wish we did. I had an unrealistic expectation that fueled my depression even more. There is this idea that women birth babies and continue with life as if nothing happened. We are expected to continue working, keep up with the house, and take care of ourselves along with baby. If you managed to do so, bless your soul. For me, I did good to get out of bed most days. How can I be so sad when my baby is so beautiful? Why do I hate my body after all it has done for me? When will I be able to feel okay again? These thoughts and many others kept me awake for months. I know now that these thoughts and feelings are very common, and I did not deserve the shame I bestowed upon myself.

My recovery wavered and I relied heavily on prayer. I did not want to take a drink, but my mental health suffered severely. I can almost relive the familiar feelings of hopelessness and derealization. I treated postpartum much like my first 90 days in recovery. I lived one day at a time because I could not see past the here and now. I looked for support in women who had similar experiences and I stayed honest with those around me. I believe that my experiences in recovery prepared me for postpartum, and I am eternally grateful for my relationship with a higher power.

I have spoken with many moms, and we have almost all said the same thing. You get to a point where you just cannot do it anymore, and then you remember that you have to. On days where I wanted to give up, my daughter’s love and innocence often carried me. I always encourage moms to share their experiences, utilize one another for support, and know that they are not alone. The early days of motherhood are some of the hardest and yet most rewarding days of our lives. Nobody can pour from an empty cup like the mom of a little one.

Today, I still struggle. It took months for me to get to a point to where I became a priority. I’m not sure that the fleeting anxiety and depression will ever be fully evaded. But I will say, I am extremely grateful to be on this side with my daughter. Being able to enjoy every second with her has made my entire experience justifiable. And I would do it all again in a heartbeat.