48 hours

I was completely exhausted.  I had never experienced so much change, so fast, so soon.  I did not know what to do, how to react to it all.  I was frazzled, perplexed, weary.  I was increasingly feeling smaller and smaller, less and less capable.  I was mad at myself for not being more 'prepared' for this.

I looked at the source of my exhaustion -  he had turned my world literally upside down overnight.  Such a tiny thing.  So much power over me.

"He" was my 2 day old baby.  I had been a mother for 48 hours.

I vaguely remember the highs and lows of the pregnancy.  It seemed like a decade ago that I was in the delivery room.  I already miss the effects of the epidural - which allowed me to sleep and rest before the final push.  But all of those things seem like just flashes from long ago now.

All I knew was what I was feeling right here, right now -- physical pain post delivery and physical and emotional exhaustion from having been in labour for 24 hours, followed by 48 hours of absolutely no sleep.

I had been a mother for 48 hours, and it was driving me nuts!  I wanted a 'break', but I soon realized, unlike pulling an all nighter to study for finals at school, unlike preparing to launch a project at work, unlike even facing my brother's death....this 'project' had no end in sight...at least not in the near future!!!

I looked at this tiny 6 pound baby and wondered why I did not feel any warm fuzzy feelings towards him. People had counselled me to just follow my instincts...what instincts?!  I felt none!

I had been a mother for 48 hours...while he had been a crying, not-eating baby for the same 48 hours.

I had tried rocking him, swaddling him, walking him, feeding him, changing his diapers, burping him, talking with him, singing to him, leaving him alone, holding him skin to skin, turning the lights on, turning them off, playing classical music, Christian music, pop music...heck...any music...and of course, I had tried feeding him.  His response to all of the above seemed consistent:  he would cry.  And with each failed attempt I felt smaller and smaller.  My self confidence diminishing so fast I was feeling like an utter failure by the end of the 48 hours.

As the first 24 hours passed and I spent the next 24 hours at home, things seemed to get from bad to worse.  I was losing it.  And 48 hours ever so slowly became 49, 50, 51, 52 hours...and then 3 days, 1 week, 4 weeks...I was not feeling any better -- in fact, it got worse.

I was not only deprived of sleep and 'regular' adult interaction, but now my body was in pain from not being able to breastfeed properly.  I was not only frustrated with my child, but also with my husband who in all fairness tried to keep it all together.  I felt useless, stupid, unattractive...and I was crying all the time.

The thought that I would be left home alone with a crying, no-sleep no-eat baby was terrifying to me.  I counted down to the time my husband would come home.  I was not living day-to-day but quite literally hour by hour, minute by minute.  A day felt like a week and a week felt like a month.  And yet my pride begged me to 'hang in there' and to be 'tough'.  "Everyone goes through it" - I told myself.  But deep inside I asked myself "Do they really?"  And if they do, where are these mothers so I can meet with them too? I believed in God but in 48 hours, my faith in God diminished.  I did not know how God fit into this new life I had.  My hope vanished so quickly I wasn't even aware it was gone.  Dare I say it, I almost regretted motherhood.  I felt completely useless and inadequate for the new role.

Things did not get better; and eventually I accepted I had a colicky baby.  I also found out I had mild post-partum depression.

I did not know it at the moment, but God was doing major renovation in our household.  There was much to fix, especially in hidden areas neither my husband nor I were aware of.   God did some much needed cleansing and purging in my life and the life of our family.  Without it, we would not be where we are now.  He made something beautiful in my life.

I am not a 'natural' mom (is there such a thing?), but I am a mother God shaped,  trained, changed, humbled, nurtured and protected.  I am a living testament that God indeed changes people.  I never thought I would say this but yes, I love being a mom now.  He was there with me those first 48 hours (and the many after that!) when I was trying to figure things out and when I was crying because I did not know what else to do to help my child.  He was there when I was going through my depression.  He was with me all this time.  I am glad God gave me this opportunity to be a mother.  I am glad He used motherhood to really deflate my ego and to remind me of who is really in control.  I am glad He helped me through those rough early days and glad that unbeknownst to me at the time, was changing me.

I hope this blog is full of stories to attest to that journey.

The 6lbs old baby is now a 42 lbs preschooler.  He still cries and makes me cry from time to time.  He still drives me nuts sometimes.

But Today, I have been a mother for 43,890 hours...and the miracle is this: I love it....now.