the postpartum scaries

quiet motherhood #1: on feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders as the sun goes down.

During the early days of my postpartum journey, I found myself feeling a sense of existential dread every night as the sun began to set. My daughter and I could have had the absolute best, snuggly fun day and I would still be consumed with the feeling that something was closing in on me, a sense of impending doom.

It started a few days after bringing home my daughter from the hospital. I was still feeling exposed, vulnerable, raw, but the initial shock of it all had worn off. Reality was setting in. My days and nights blurred together. Frequent wakeups and exhaustion were starting to take their toll. I craved a sense of normalcy, a glimpse into my old life. I started to wonder, what have we done?

Each evening around 4:30pm (let’s also commiserate about the fact that the sun sets so early in January…UGH), I would realize another night was coming. Sleep would be fitful as I laid there for my “shift” of rest. I’d frequently wake up to her cries coming from the living room where my husband stayed with her until it was my turn. My alarm was set for 3:00am to relieve my husband of his duties for a few hours and I would almost always wake up before it rang.

The world was so quiet between the hours of 3:00am to 6:00am. My daughter would sleep or feed off and on, often only sleeping in my arms while I stared at her in the glow of our Christmas tree lights. I was tired of course, but my nervous energy kept me awake. Each little grunt or sound she would make in her bassinet would pull me quickly from my light sleep. I worried constantly at night. Was she eating enough? Would she ever sleep for longer than a couple hours at a time? Would I ever sleep? Will I have time for a nap later today? How do I keep this up when I’m so, so tired.

In my hazy, dreamlike state, I would smile so big once I noticed the sky turning pink over the field across the street from my house. The sun was rising. I could manage the daytime again. I’d excitedly make my morning coffee and feed my animals, positively cheerful that I got through yet another night with my newborn.

The return of daytime seemed to give me an otherworldly burst of energy, propelling me through the morning and early afternoon with ease. Eventually I’d start to crash and the energy would fade, my bed beckoning me for “just a quick nap”. I didn’t want to nap though. I didn’t want to waste the last few hours of daylight I had, before facing another long night.

It seemed counterintuitive, this avoidance of napping because I wanted to be awake in the daytime. The daytime felt normal, manageable. I had my husband and help from visitors dropping off food or offering to hold the baby. The night was a completely different animal. I felt alone and unsure and anxious, both about the lack of sleep, but also about the complete upheaval of my life. I wasn’t prepared for it.

In college, my friends and I would frequently suffer from the Sunday scaries. I’m sure you’ve all heard this term before, but it refers to that feeling of dread or doom or anxiety that comes after a particularly fun weekend, usually related to copious amounts of alcohol consumption. This feeling is nearly identical to the one I was feeling as each evening returned. Dread, anxiety, doom colored my thoughts and frequently brought me to tears. It was so hard to explain. I felt like I was simply going through the motions of caring for a newborn with my brain spinning and skidding out of control. I felt unhinged and emotional, so scared and worried, internally begging for one more hour of daylight, just one, please!

Now, 11 weeks out from the birth of my daughter, I rarely feel these postpartum scaries anymore. It passed, much like most of the heightened emotions, stress, and anxiety mothers feel during those first few weeks postpartum. In those moments though, it felt so all-consuming, so real to me. I felt as though my life was spiraling out of control, my happiness a distant memory. I felt destined to never leave the house past 3:00pm ever again for fear of my crippling anxiety rearing its ugly head.

I am happy to say that my anxiety, although still present, has greatly improved. I have learned to enjoy my evenings again. Although, I still feel that being out of the house too close to bedtime is anxiety inducing. My life is becoming ours now, instead of only hers. We are learning from each other and growing to understand each other. The nights don’t scare me anymore (at least for now..I’m sure the four month sleep regression will knock me on my ass soon enough).