Having Bug, my first baby was a shock. The initial lack of sleep, coupled with the constant demands of a completely helpless, totally dependent person, turned my world upside down. And it was several months before I felt okay again. It helped immensely that my near neighbor had just had a baby, too, and we would throw them into our respective strollers and walk around the neighborhood or up to the nearest coffee shop. I went to a weekly Bible study, where there were tons of other moms who could give me advice or a shoulder to cry on. When he could, my husband would come home early from work or literally push me out of the door with my car keys to spend an hour or two alone at Borders or to hang out with my sister or a friend. The trapped-panic feelings began — very slowly — to subside. But you know what? Those were still just “baby blues.” And here’s how I know: because it got so much worse the next time.
Just over two years ago I was pregnant again, just in time for a space of 2 years between baby #1 and baby #2. Three months of constant morning sickness. We told everyone we were having another. And the very next day we found out that I’d miscarried over the weekend.
I plunged into a dark time. I took on a consulting job that had me traveling for a few weeks. Not easy for our little family, but I needed to get out, away. Somehow being the next state over for a few days every week for a month helped me work through the feelings of bitterness and loss. But what really helped me was exercising — every morning I woke up at 5:30 and hit the hotel gym for a half hour of running on the treadmill. Every night after leaving the office I’d jump on the treadmill again before going out to dinner with my team. I ran in anger and frustration, but the body has its ways of working through anguish, and after a few weeks I felt renewed (and about 10 lbs lighter). The loss still hurt, but I felt capable of starting over.
Then I got pregnant with Toot. (to be continued)