The other day we got an email from a college friend of Mr. Beeton's who was expecting her first baby. The little one, already almost two weeks late, was seriously resisting making his entrance into the world. He'd gone topsy-turvy, and it looked like the only way S & S were going to meet their new little one was if they elected to have a Caesarean section. S was nervous. She'd imagined something very different.
You said it was dangerous after Sunday
And I knew you loved me
I understood her hesitation completely, and I emailed her to tell her the crazy adventure we had with Baby Beeton. I've realized, since Baby Beeton's birth, that very rarely is anyone concerned with each little one's journey. All that matters is that he or she arrives. People don't really care about the details. So S was surprised to hear that despite the joy having Baby Beeton brought, having Baby Beeton wasn't all that joyful.
In writing back and forth with her, I realized that a lot of what I've been going through lately took root on May 31st when all of the sudden I was being wheeled into a surgery room. I remember feeling totally unprepared. I remember the profound disappointment that washed over me when I was told I needed to have a C-section. I remember my sheer panic at hearing my baby cry but not being able to see him for what felt like hours. I remember thinking over and over again, "This isn't what I expected." Emailing with S brought up all these horrible emotions - ones so tightly interwoven with the competing elation I felt when I finally got to hold my baby.
But you know how it is
And how a pregnancy can change you
Mr. Beeton and I have been in our own little bubble these past several months, trying to process what happened and trying to survive the present. We finally admitted that what's been going on has been larger than we can handle on our own, and we've reached out to family. I've gone to the doctor, been evaluated to rule out any physical problems. I've cut back on caffeine, which was making me jittery and sleepless, begun eating better, and started going to a postpartum depression support group. Every time I have a negative thought - about our birth experience, about the potential tragedies lurking behind every corner, about my inadequacies - I try to replace that thought with a memory from when I was pregnant, those nine months when I felt fantastic.
If I treated you mean
I really didn't mean to
And, this past week, things - while not perfect - have felt more normal. We visited with friends in Virginia on Friday night. We had dinner at Austin Grill in Silver Spring with Baby Beeton on Saturday night. And, on Tuesday night, I went to bookclub where I was the resident expert on babies. I'm the only one who has one, though another member just made the announcement that she is expecting in July. It felt good to be with old friends, and it felt even better to feel like I had something to say about mothering. More often than not, I feel as though everybody else is telling me to do something this way or that way, so it was nice to be asked my opinion, to feel like I had an answer, and to be listened to.
All I want to do is just sit here
And write it all down and rest for a while
We listen to a lot of She and Him around here. Baby Beeton loves it, especially the song "I Was Made for You." I keep hearing the refrain from "Me and You," and I'm trying my best to remember to do it. I know that this period won't last forever; I'll feel better one day. And, for now, I've just got to hold tight to those little moments that make me smile and focus, focus, focus on them...
You asked if I'm scared
And I said so
Keep sweeping, Martha
Watched Midnight in Paris and Parenthood: Season One. Finished reading The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides.
