The Naked Truth: The Fourth Trimester and Beyond

PART 2

Disclaimer: I will not be researching stats or doing any background reading for this blog, this is simply my own experience 

“No one really talks about this part of being a parent”

The Fourth Trimester.

I had no business trying as hard as I did to breastfeed my kid. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. The delivery was hard, and felt like an out-of-body exorcism, but it only lasted a week. Breastfeeding was months and months of blood (literally), sweat, and tears. We had all the help from our doula and a lactation consultant. Also had my mother in law consult some family in Mexico for home remedies. Our kid did not want to drink formula, and was extremely colicky with it. He cried all the time (now I’m finding out that newborns cry all the time lol) but our kid cried his little painful cry. He had upset stomachs from the formula, so I felt the pressure to have to breastfeed him even more. I did everything. I ate things, drank things, took supplements, hydrated, pumped after almost every feed. It was exhausting. Looking back, it was the most unhealthiest obsessive experience I’ve ever endured- but in my head, my kid needed me to be fed, to survive.

The doctors had warned us that if he continued to lose weight, they’d have to feed him with a feeding tube. Such a tiny being with a feeding tube. I couldn’t let that happen. So I was up, every 2-3 hours feeding him and pumping. It would take close to an hour to feed him, then to pump, so I really only slept about an hour at a time if that. It was INTENSE. I value my sleep, I always have, and this is when I began to realize that we were living in trauma response. We were on survival (my husband and I). We would wake up in fear, thinking we accidentally fell asleep holding the baby. We would wake up with our arms holding the pillow, thinking it was the baby. We would hear phantom cries even when the baby was fast asleep. When we had a chance to shower, we felt the need to rush to run back to support one another. I felt like I couldn’t leave my kids side, because I was responsible for feeding him. At some point I had stored enough milk to take a couple hours off, but little did I know my supply would drop and he’d cry and cry for more around month 4 and then again around month 6. 

I also forgot to mention that I experienced hypothyroidism after birth. My health also began to feel off during breastfeeding. I would get the shakes and I would feel very weak. Turns out I wasn’t getting enough nutrients for myself so I also needed to eat more (of the good foods) because I was having low blood sugar levels after breastfeeding. No one talks about how giving birth and even breastfeeding can affect a mothers physical health. I never had thyroid issues, and now I do. I never had blood sugar issues, and during breastfeeding I did. Luckily now I don’t. 

Anyway, the circumstances were not helpful, if I had the chance to do it over, I’d probably try to push formula for much-needed breaks, especially since I wasn’t the greatest milk supplier.  Seeing my kid in pain from the formula was difficult to go through. Maybe I’d look for several other types of formulas (we tried 5) that could’ve helped supplement his feedings so that I didn’t feel pressured to exclusively breastfeed. Who knows. It wasn’t until later in our breastfeeding journey that I enjoyed it more. Later on, around month 7, he didn’t need to fed as often and also was much better at latching. We got into a rhythm, and breastfeeding was so much easier than pumping. I quit my job as a therapist at a community college just so that I can keep breastfeeding him since it was going to be impossible to pump as much milk out as he actually drinks in a span of 8 hours. I was committed and nothing was going to stop me. 

The First Year.

This is when things got/felt lighter. I had committed to breastfeeding Lucas for a year, and I did it for a year and a week. I slowly reduced the amount of time I fed him and used cows milk as a replacement. He was also eating more solids and was sleeping so much better. This is when I started to realize, “we are no longer in the battle fields.” I finally felt like we were getting the hang of parenting, the kid was sleeping, we were resting, and we even included self-care evenings where we each left the house on the evenings after bed time routine to do whatever we want to do (usually some form of exercise or socializing with friends). I also felt like I finally had my body back. No one talks about how when you’re body-feeding/ breastfeeding your body doesn’t feel like it’s yours.  It also sorta felt like my kid only wanted me for my breasts- it that was weirdest experience (love/hate experience/ mixed feelings). I felt envious of the fun bond my husband had with Lucas. I felt like their relationship was based on genuine fun while mine felt it was based on necessity. I played with my kid, and had special dates, but what felt like the first year of his life was so focused on feeding him that I felt like what could’ve been a special bond, was tainted with the pressure I experienced with breastfeeding. 

When you’re breastfeeding, you’re feeding your kid whenever they’re hungry, could be an hour, could be two, could be 30min later- usually the latter. You’re on the clock 24/7. And it’s not like being a parent, it’s like being a parent x2 because there’s a physical component to it. You’re waking up, physically and strategically moving the kid to feed them at all hours of the day. But after a year, I finally had control of my body once again. I no longer breastfed so I felt like I had my physical body back. At this point though, I still didn’t feel “like myself.” I wasn’t in survival but I also didn’t feel as much energy as I did before- there was still a mental fog. I feared I would never find my spirit again. By spirit I mean, my charisma, my spark, my creativeness- myself. I was a mom now, but I refused to be a mom who didn’t know who she was outside of being a mom. I craved finding that person again. 

I went back to work. That helped. But there was a different feeling now. I liked the freedom and time of being away from home, but also wondered what my kid was doing, what he was eating, and missed him even though I wanted the distance. What a bizarre experience. I found it hard to ask for more help, make more time for work because of this want/need to be home more with the kid. I knew I needed more time for myself, but it was difficult to do so. I knew I wanted to do more reading, journaling, exercising, - the things that made me feel like me again- but how would I explain that to my mom or mother-in-law? During this time, self-care evenings helped- we also did friend outings occasionally on weekends. But at the end of the day, all I wanted to do is rest when it was my “day off/ self care evening.” 

The First Two Years.
I saw an article in the NY Times, and WOW, it so empowering and refreshing to read. It was so validating to read what I knew in my heart was going on with me all these months.

It wasn’t until February 2023, when my kid was almost 2. Think he was 1 year 8 months (born May 2021)? That I finally felt like myself. My entire self. My creativity was back. My spark was back. My spirit was back! My motivation to learn, to read, to tend to my work, to tend to the things that spark joy. I love my job, I always have, but I had been so concerned that I wasn’t going to go back to the plans I previously had for my practice. I want so much for myself, I want to create self-paced workshops, I want to attend trainings, become EMDR certified, create workbooks, I want to write a book! I want to do so much but my brain did not have the space for those ideas (again)- at least not until almost two years after my kid was born. Those things didn’t even feel unattainable, they just felt unimportant and nowhere in my mind. It was weird because I felt apathetic to the things that I previously enjoyed. But also didn’t feel the same drive with anything else. Looking back, I know I was burned out the two years of parenthood. I needed the time to recuperate. My brain needed the time to return back to a norm without fight or flight. 

People talk about how being a mother changes you but they don’t talk about how it takes some time to find yourself again (the new version of you), and that’s okay. It’s hard for me to explain what I’m referring to, but for those of you that understand, you likely found your spirit months or years later too. I feel like a kid again. I feel like I can be my playful foolish self. I feel like I’m no longer afraid of breaking. And this is where, your brain starts to forget the hard stuff you went through and starts to tell you, “maybe it’s time to do it again?” That’s fucken nuts- I even think so sometimes. Why would I do this to myself again? But if I look at the bigger picture, two years of that, for a lifetime of big smiles, and crying from happiness basically on the daily- I’m down. 

 I don’t know what’s in store for us, only time will tell. But I’m liking the new and improved Lupita. The one that has her spirit back but also gained a whole other identity. The new identity that teaches her about patience, perseverance, and kindness at a whole other level. Being a mother has changed me. It’s made me realize how much love a human has the capacity to have. It’s taught me how profound our souls and spirits can be. It’s taught me how (more) often I can now cry from happiness. It’s taught me to enjoy life in a way that has a bigger meaning than it did before. It’s taught me to practice all these habits for myself first, because only then can I be a kind patient soul for the kid. It’s also made me realize how my creativity, my spirit, and my laughter, were always meant to be for more than just my husband and I.