Becoming a Mother, the Five Stages of Grief

Yes, I said grief. But hear me out. I'm telling my tale as we finally live in a time where a woman can admit to feelings that aren't 100% in line with the traditional narrative thrust upon us. It is becoming more socially acceptable to admit to complex feelings when it comes to being wives and mothers, and I truly believe we are better for it. For new moms, and those who remember being a new mom like it was yesterday, I hope you find some affirmation and solidarity in my tale.

Posted in solidarity by a mom friend on my FB wall

Becoming a mother is not a simple transformation. We do not elegantly change from rowdy little caterpillars into elegant maternal butterflies in an instant. In the hours that are some of the most brutal of your life you are thrust just as violently into the role as your child was into the world. I went through stages of grieving for my old self, all while holding this tiny dependent close to my body, trapped by a mere six pounds.

As far as new moms go, I was far from the most naive. I was literally prepared for this to SUCK. I was prepared to love the crap out of my child, but understood that caring for a human that can barely lift their head was going to clearly be no walk in the park.

I also knew enough about babies not to bother myself too much with loading up on baby books full of conflicting advice before hand. I was familiar with most of the basic "normals" and I was going to trust my gut and Google for the most part rather than let my sleep deprived brain become even more overloaded.

And for the most part, that was a great idea. So, with all of my knowledge from caring for other people's babies, I was ready. Except, usually when you watch other people's babies, they're not newborns (well, maybe in America, home of the free and back to work in two weeks). So there I was with a surprisingly attractive baby (let's be honest, the first week of our life is usually not THAT cute) and in for a few rude awakenings.

While I'll address some of the others later, like breastfeeding or self-care, the one baby epiphany I want to focus on here is "the 4th Trimester". I, seriously, didn't know it was a thing. And probably this has something to do with the obvious incongruity of the phrase, but it does make sense when you think about it. But this phenomena of your baby needing to be held all of the time, of needing to gently transition from womb to world, really encapsulates a lot of my initial struggle.

I first encountered the issue two days in, tucked in a nice suite in the hospital birthing hotel I was paying out of pocket for. It was like a really nice halfway house inside the hospital for new moms - on your own with the baby and the hubby/partner in a room that was like a Holiday Inn with a rocking chair and a changing table.

Well, a few hours into our first night after being moved from recovery we were trying to get some rest and kept putting the sleeping angel in his Tupperware bassinet, only to have our eyes popped open five minutes after each attempt by his soft wails. Did he need food? A diaper change? Maybe that too, but he always, always, needed to curl up fetal on a human chest. We called it frogging, for the way he pulled in his arms and legs.

I mean, I like snuggles and all, but I was pooped, my husband was pooped and we couldn't put the baby down. So I took the big pillows and propped myself up, as did my husband and we took shifts. But, no, you can't sleep like that, not really. "This isn't sustainable" we wailed in agreement, "he has to learn!" But he didn't learn, at least not for another 10-12 excruciating weeks. But I did learn a few things starting from those first hours alone.

Lesson 1, in the beginning, you really aren't in charge. Babies are tiny dictators and you are subject to their childish whims. Suck it up, or face criminal charges, basically.

Lesson 2, being born is really hard on a little human. Straight from a cozy temperature controlled environment with the soothing whooshing white noise of a heartbeat (and gurgling of your pregnancy craving being digested), the helpless creature is thrust into noise, light and air conditioning.

Lesson 3, beyond giving birth, becoming a mother is really hard on a woman. You're the centre of the activity, but not the attention. Suddenly everything, and I mean everything, you do is for someone you barely know. And you have to become, in an instant, someone you barely know.

It's a harsh jolt, and just as I had the hospital hotel room to try to ease the shock of my life being turned upside down, the little dude needed to hear my heartbeat to cope with the shock of his world going topsy turvy.

But for all the shock of being tossed out of my womb, luckily, newborns actually aren't that picky. Any chest would suffice (follow link for a "but I digress" moment), which is the only reason I ever got a break. But once the hubz went back to work, I was paralysed. Within two weeks it became clear we needed a big screen TV and some Netflix because my ass was spending a LOT of time on the sofa staring at the wall.

Dreams of spending three months maternity leave learning coding dashed, I finally resigned myself to the fate. Now, I know what some mum's are thinking, so let me just say it. Yes, there is babywearing as a solution, and maybe I'll be braver next time around, but I felt he was a little too small (born 5.5 pounds) and vulnerable to chance the dangers of a baby sling the first 8 weeks.

While glued to the sofa at his whim, I started to process my new life, and it wasn't easy at first. I felt a little trapped, I felt confused, and I felt very lonely and lost. But I decided he probably wouldn't be demanding it if he didn't actually need the holding, and I didn't want him to turn out like a Romanian orphanage baby. So, after fighting it hard, I learned to love the snuggle, and I learned to accept my new reality.

In an anecdotal nutshell, here is how the stages of grief looked like for me:

1. Denial - "This isn't sustainable, he has to learn." Let me tell you something, a newborn doesn't learn shit.

2. Anger - My husband between weeks 1 and 2 asking if I want anything from the store and me responding "I WANT TO GO TO THE STORE!"

3. Depression - Me just holding him and crying because I just want to pee but I don't want him to wake up, and this cascading into a long list of things I'd rather be doing but can't.

The first three stages in image form

The first three stages in image form

4. Bargaining - I started dreaming of going back to work ASAP. Suddenly, in my mind, the company wasn't the clusterhump that it was the day before he was born. If only I could find a good daycare, I could return to being an individual for a few hours a day. Spoiler alert: it was still a clusterhump.

5. Acceptance - Establishing a small routine while waiting to return to work and being grateful he "let me make coffee" (drinking it warm was another matter). And learning to love the snuggle. It was a bitch on the back, but it was sweet, and it wouldn't last forever.

Acceptance

And it didn't last forever. By 3.5 months he was sleeping through the night in his own bed and I was trying to figure out how to sleep horizontally again. I went back to work at 4.5 months and even spent the day looking forward to snuggling on a bench outside of the daycare, letting the pettiness of the day slide away as I held the most important person on earth.

I'm a mom now and I'm mommy blogging about it. Gag me with a spoon.