The Journey Home
March 1st, 2009 by Aisling Cordon Maki
Motherhood is harder than I’d ever imagined.
Neither inspirational books filled with poems about little angels divinely entrusted to our care nor the magazine images of sweet babes resting on their mothers’ bosoms prepared me for this. The constant crying wears me down. The lack of sleep makes me irritable. The failure to fix my child’s woes makes me feel like a failure.
But for every time I fail, there’s a time when I figure it out. Sometimes, when I cradle my daughter in my arms, the crying stops. She smiles, feeling safe and loved. Those times remind me I am a real mom, and more often than not, I’m actually good at it.
Over the last 15 months, I’ve learned how to be gentler with myself, to let go of anger and guilt. This alone has been a challenge. To begin with, my baby seemed reluctant to enter this world, and I wondered if my own fears were holding her back. “Transition” is the phase of childbirth when the cervix becomes fully dilated and ready for delivery, and my body resisted transitioning. My labor, which had to be induced, took 15 hours. My body seemed to be playing into the fears brewing in my mind over whether I was truly equipped to become somebody’s mother.
Making new memories
The day I gave birth to Brídin Cecilia (“Bridie”) was bittersweet. She was born on the evening of November 14th, 2007, the seventh anniversary of the death of my mother, Bríd, for whom she is named. As I held my beautiful new daughter in my arms, I wept with happiness and sorrow. I was grateful for the honor of nurturing this child, but tremendously sad I didn’t have my own parents here to show me how (my father died when I was 11). Perhaps the timing of Bridie’s birth was my mother’s posthumous gift to me. The saddest day of the year would now be my happiest. A celebration of life over death.
The first few weeks were blissful. We spent our days cuddling, nursing, my Brídie swaddled in soft pink blankets as I serenaded her with the same Irish lullabies my mother once sang to me. Every time she cried, I knew instinctively what she needed. And when she awoke at night, though exhausted, I looked forward to holding her because I missed her when she slept.
I fell in love with my husband, Amos, in a whole new way. The act of creating a life together brought us closer than I ever thought possible. Each time he held our girl in his arms, he became teary-eyed and whispered, “best thing I’ve ever done.” His paternal nature astounded me, and I counted my blessings.
A cloud descends
When Brídie was about four weeks old, however, something changed. It was as if the maternal bond had come undone. I became numb and distant, no longer enjoying the daily tasks of care-giving. A strange cloud descended, one that didn’t make sense to me or anyone else. It felt as if my soul had been kidnapped and carried away.
When my baby cooed or my husband hugged me, it felt no different than taking out the garbage or picking up socks. Food lost its flavor, music its melody. I had a family, yet I was curiously absent. Worse, I feared what had left me might never return.
I learned I had postpartum depression, something 10 to 15 percent of women experience after giving birth. It was easier to deal with once I realized I wasn’t alone. Following my doctor’s advice, I tried not to allow myself to become overwhelmed. My husband arranged for family members to watch Bridie on occasion, and I started reconnecting with family and friends via e-mail. I made a point to get out with the baby twice a week too, scheduling visits and phone calls with my sister and her family in Millington.
My doctor offered prescription meds if I needed them, but feeling understood and supported helped tremendously, and I opted not to take them. I had a rocky bout, but after several months, my spirits lifted.
Coming home
Following a brief family getaway, the new and improved me started making changes. After several years as a freelance journalist, the idea of a steady paycheck, real coworkers, and new challenges appealed. I found a job in television news. Balancing my work and home life proved tricky at times, but we worked out our schedules so one of us was usually home with the baby.
And I finally started to enjoy my Brídie. Now, watching her grow is exhilarating. Whether playing with her feet, or turning the pages of a book, each day brings fresh discoveries and more reasons to fall in love.
What I most appreciate about young children is their capacity to be genuinely excited about life, something most of us lose touch with as we become cynical, bill-paying adults. Brídie points and shrieks when she spies a bird, and loves to wrap her little arms around a tree. She cheers for Elmo, dances for Daddy, and claps for grilled cheese.
It’s hard not to join in, even on a bad day.
Becoming a parent has turned my world upside down, but I’m not interested in turning it right side up. Motherhood isn’t easy, but it feels just right.