Joy in the Chaos

After Zary was born I was consumed by constant pelvic floor pain, and crippling anxiety from the c-section it eventually led to. My body didn’t feel like mine. I didn’t feel strong or capable enough to take care of my own baby. I was grappling with the worry of not knowing whether my body could tolerate another pregnancy, despite Nick and my dreams of a huge family. I was so lost in this new role and new body and I didn’t think that I’d ever really feel like me again. But slowly – oh so slowly – and through years of physical therapy and a heaping dose of prayer, I finally was “me” again.

Then, quite suddenly, I was me… plus Mina. 

Postpartum with Mina was starkly different, but no less tumultuous. While I’d finally settled into motherhood and again felt in control of my own body, we simply couldn’t keep any weight on Mina’s. I nursed her around the clock, a dozen times a night well past 5 months old. Mina’s weight had dropped from 80th to 18th percentile by the time she finally had her tongue-tie diagnosed and released… but by then the habits and stress of being constantly hungry were 6 months engrained. Mina ultimately didn’t sleep longer than four hours in a stretch until she was almost a year old. Nick and I spent months handing Mina Belle back and forth in the dark, struggling to make sure the other got at least a two-hour unbroken stretch of sleep per night. It was our unspoken love language for months. My early memories of our second baby are simply blacked out by fatigue. Nick and I look back on that first year of Mina with pure awe that we all survived it.

But, we did. 

And we even decided to have another. (Insanity, right?)

This past week as Maisy woke up from her newborn fog, I’ve found myself consistently overstimulated, overwhelmed, and officially outnumbered. I cried in front of my toddlers for the first time ever because Mina yelled at me too many times. She’s embracing those middle child vibes. Zary cocked her head and just said “that’s a weird face, mom”. Zero sympathy. But despite the mayhem, I’m finding this postpartum period alarmingly peaceful in comparison. I’m dumbfounded by tranquility in the understanding that this stage of life is short. I couldn’t see the light at the end with Zary or Mina, but somehow in this third time around, I finally have faith in it’s coming.

As Nick passed me a puke-covered newborn at 3AM last night (Maisy has a passion for overeating. Chubba Wub), I couldn’t help but notice that we were both laughing instead of simmering. When Mina sadly looked up at Nick yesterday and said “can you please put Maisy on her Boppy and play with me?” it broke our hearts a little bit, but we smiled because we know with certainty that this stage is fleeting.

Honestly, I’m so proud of myself for just relaxing into the imperfect these past few weeks. I’ve let myself go to bed with the girls’ toys still out on the living room floor (appalling, I know). I wore my pajama pants to Pick’n’Save (in my book, this is a cardinal sin). We’ve grabbed our clothes from the neglected laundry basket sitting on my bedroom floor, because folded clothes are a luxury these days (have you caught on yet on that I have ZERO chill?) The girls ate breakfast in front of the TV more days than I care to count and the neighbors have probably even seen me walking around the house with a boob hanging out a time or two. And while all of these concessions just three weeks ago would make my skin crawl, they’re now just gentle reminders for me that this is temporary.

Two nights before I went into labor with Maisy, I was enjoying a calm, hot bath alone while Nick handled the big girls. I guess I somehow knew it would be my last moment of silence for a while. I logged myself a quick reminder in my phone – “Remember to relax. This day is coming again.”

The newborn stage is exhausting and emotional and challenging. Everyone is on edge and no one has quite enough time in the day. Everyone needs more and everyone has less to give. But we’ve been here before and we’ve gotten through it. We’ll be on the backside again before we know it. So for now, we’re finally choosing to find the joy in the chaos.

Welcome to the family, Maisy Joon. We sure do love you.