A Postpartum Reality

I met up with a friend of mine a few weeks ago who is pregnant with her first. She was talking about going to Switzerland when the baby is 3 or 4 months old to conduct a yoga workshop.

My friend is pretty amazing.  She is a woman who gets shit done. She finds and creates these wonderful opportunities for herself and is quite adventurous. I like to think her and I are very similar 🙂

We are similar in other ways too – we both have dealt with anxiety and insomnia – and I know hers is worse than mine.

So when she was telling me that she wanted to fly across the world with her baby, I wanted more than anything to be supportive.  I truly love the idea of continuing to pursue your passions and follow your adventurous spirit through all stages of motherhood.

But the reality of being a new mom, at least for me, was so far from the jet setting, goal achieving, kind of reality.

It was a reality filled with anxiety, fear, and stress. I was easily overwhelmed and incapable of making the smallest trips just to the store without a near panic attack.

But that was just my experience and everyone handles the postpartum stage differently.  Plus, it did get a hell of a lot better after three months – I even got on a plane with him twice within the first year!  (Was incredibly difficult, but I did it!).

So I didn’t want to burst my friends bubble because only she will know what she’s capable of handling once the baby comes.  And not being able to handle a trip to Switzerland or even a trip to the grocery store is OK.  Though I do hope so much for my friend (and for myself this second time around) that the postpartum clouds don’t find her.  Not only because it truly sucks to be in it, but it changes you.  It makes you more afraid.  It makes you doubt yourself and your abilities.

At least for a little while.

I started feeling more like myself after three months, but even now (20 months later) I’m still dealing with some stuff.  Heightened anxiety and a touch of claustrophobia.  I also fear more and stress over the ‘what ifs’.

Or maybe that’s just what’s called being a mom.

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