NEW BABY BLUES | Ellie Braun-Haley |
I knew very little about the kind of depression that can hit shortly after giving birth and there was no one to give me advice so I tried to ignore the hopeless feelings as they washed over me. Apparently my baby was not to be fooled and he soon did enough crying for both of us. Since he had a hernia the doctor warned us not to let him cry or the intestine could get pushed out and twisted, so I was constantly rocking him, worrying over him and chastising myself, wondering why I was being such a wimp. This was my third child so I expected things to go smoothly, but the opposite seemed to be my fate. I was puzzled over the sad feelings I was experiencing. We had two girls and now we had a boy. That should be cause for celebration. Why then did I feel on the verge of tears? I ached to be near my mother, to speak with her and get her advice, but long distance calls were costly and it seemed there was no sense in worrying her. I searched my mind for the answer to the depression I was experiencing. Could it be happening because there were seven years between my last two children or perhaps I was still tired from the harsh Canadian winter. Was I crying because the baby kept on crying or was the baby crying because I was crying? He seemed to cry incessantly and he had some health problems but the doctor said everything was fixable. What was there to feel sad about? I began thinking about the short time I'd been in the hospital and the one nurse in particular who was overflowing with good advice and a positive attitude. "Wouldn't it be nice if she would just call and say, "how are you."?" I thought to my self. Knowing that wasn't going to happen I plotted ways in my mind to find her and ask her advice. I was able to find her phone number through another lady and wished I could just find the courage to dial that phone. But I couldn't and didn't. I reasoned: "people just do not do things like that." Two nights later the baby woke and needed attention. I sat with him in the dark of the living room nursing him and then burping and rocking him. So exhausted I felt tears burn my eyes, I sat in the middle of my own personal pity party, aching for some kind of help and knowing there was none. Suddenly I felt a tap on the shoulder and a little voice said, "mommy let me hold him for you?" It was my youngest daughter, Laurie. Why she was up at 3:00 am I didn't ask, but I slipped the baby into the open arms of my seven year old, laid my head back and was instantly asleep. I don't know how long I slept, but I awoke with a start and there she was still rocking her brother. I felt refreshed and as I took back the baby, I softly asked, "how long did I sleep?" "A little while mommy," was her reply. Later, after she had gone to bed I thought about what had just happened. Seven year old children seldom get up in the middle of the night to patiently sit and rock a baby. My young daughter was showing her willingness to help at any time and her action gave me hope that if I asked help of the nurse she would also give it. The next day I called the nurse and cried with relief when she not only remembered me but offered to stop by and bring me a book about nursing. She explained what I was going through was not uncommon and sounded so genuinely caring as she spoke. "I'll be over a little after 4 PM. In the meantime" she said, "put on some music you really like and open the drapes. Let the sun in and ask someone to stay with baby Jason while you go out for a walk alone." Things didn't get better instantly however knowing there was someone, who cared enough to reach out to help, honestly lifted my spirits. Everything she suggested was soothing and it didn't feel like I was still living in a dark pit. As I look back, I realize that in my despair I couldn't seem to see how to alter my situation, but the actions of my young daughter gave me clarity, and the catalyst I needed. Her offer to help was like salve to an open wound, and her kind words remain with me even now, "Let me hold him for you mommy."
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