A New Happy

When you hear the word "happy", I'm sure numerous things pop into your head. And, if you're a mom, I'm sure lots of those things surround your children. Their silliness, their laughter, their dress up times, their quiet moments... it all makes us happy.

But what is the root of all this happiness? And... what if you don't feel happy? Is this okay? Many times, we pretend. We're moms - we're supposed to be happy. It's expected of us. All the time, no matter what. You have beautiful, vibrant, healthy children. You should be happy. If you ask me, that is the worst statement to exist in all of time. Nobody should ever tell anyone else how they should feel.

I used to know what I loved. I loved reading, movies, writing, running, camping, going to dance clubs, being surrounded by five to ten people at a time... these things made me happy. And once I had my daughter, that all changed. I did not feel fulfilled. No matter what I tried. I never felt like what I was doing made me happy. I wanted to get back to me; I wanted to be me again. The old me before I brought a mini-me into this world. And when I didn't feel that way no matter what I did, I fell into a hole. A deep, dark hole.

Postpartum depression (PPD) is not something that is widely spoken of. You hear a bit about it before you have kids and while you're pregnant, and of course, you think that'll never happen to me. I've never been depressed a day in my life.

But to some of us, it does. And we're here to tell you it's okay. It's okay to feel this way and, trust us, it does get better. Be gentle on yourself - a whole new human being was just placed in your hands. Be kind to yourself - know this new human loves you no matter what.

There are no psychologists writing this, we are not physicians. We cannot diagnose you, we are just here to share our experiences. And hope, somehow, it helps someone.

The books out there on pregnancy we devour when we find out we're pregnant - "What to Expect...", "HypnoBabies", "The Bradley Method", "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child"... all of these books prepare you for a baby, that's for sure. They describe what'll happen when the baby is born, how to prepare for a baby, even breathing exercises you can do for baby while in utero, while baby is coming out of utero... and we are so excited to read these books. We think we will know the ins and outs of being a mom when we're done. We cover to cover them in a short time span, we quote them to our spouses over dinner, we leave them by the toilet in hopes they'll read them too...
But, what about us?

Absolutely nothing on this planet can prepare you for having a baby. Nothing. No book, no doctor, no friend, family or co worker. Nothing. Until it happens. And it's very, very personal. So be kind to yourself during this time.

You spend your whole life being you. Am I right? You spend 25+ years forming yourself into the person you want to be: You teach yoga three times a week, you bar tend for extra cash, you drop life at a moment's notice for a road trip, you work full time, you train for marathons, you have coffee dates on a whim... then it all stops. And it stops so suddenly, nothing can prepare you.
Think about that: life as you know stops. And, it's okay.

Nobody tells you how lonely maternity leave can be. At first, you have a revolving door of friends, family, neighbors, coworkers, church goers, random passersbyers (it feels like) coming to visit. They bring gifts (usually none for you), food (saving grace you don't have to cook), more gifts (still none for you)... and then a week passes.

Your spouse is back to work. The friends and family go back to their lives. The coworkers go back to work. The passerbyers go back to just passing by. And you sit on your couch in two day-old yoga pants, unwashed hair and a shirt covered in spit-up and breastmilk. Physically, you resemble your former bar tending, marathon training self... emotionally, you feel like anything but. You'd give anything for a shower, for a moment to leave the house, for the tiny human to stop crying...
It's you, your baby and the four walls of your house.

You've dreamed of these days; I will read books, I will bake, I will clean the house, I will finally learn to contour properly, baby and I will roll around on my clean carpets in glee because we will have so much time on our hands!

But you don't. You don't do any of that. You change diapers, the baby cries, you cry, the baby sleeps, you try to sleep but feel guilty for said sleep (the list in your head is dragging you down: laundry, books, baking, cleaning...).

You feel like you exist to keep that baby alive. And you know what? You're right. You are existing to keep the baby alive. And while that is rewarding, amazing and incredible... it is also exhausting, overwhelming and terrifying.

How many of you slept on the floor next to the bassinet the baby's first night home, checking to make sure she is breathing every 10 minutes? My husband and I took shifts during our daughter's first night home. I remember even during his sleep-on-the-floor shift, I was sitting in bed and staring at her. I couldn't think of anything except: I have no idea what I'm doing. We left the hospital with the baby earlier that day and I said to the security guard "I don't know what I'm doing." as she escorted us out. And she looked down at me, smiled and said "don't worry, honey, none of us do."

None. Of. Us. Do.

What nobody tells you is the frustration that comes along with another person who is 100% reliant on you, but cannot speak - why is she crying? Did he eat enough? Is she supposed to be sleeping right now? Why is he making that face? Nobody tells you the lost feeling of scrolling social media and seeing friends out. I remember I was jealous of anyone who could leave their house. After all, I was on my baby's third feeding of the hour and my hair was unraveling from it's three day old ponytail. I was not cleared from a doctor to leave my doughnut pillow on my couch so there I sat. Day in and day out.

But, friends, let me tell you something - there are days. Days when the sun is shining through the window, you do read a book and do laundry. There are days when you are able to shower (hint: bring the baby swing into the bathroom). There are days when you and baby do roll around on the carpet in glee. And those good days are the ones that erase the bad.

I spent so much time focusing on what used to make me happy, it never actually occurred to me that I had to find new happiness. I was sad those spontaneous road trips did not happen anymore (hell, spontaneous coffee trips didn't even happen)... but you know what does happen? First words, first smiles, first giggles... turning into first steps, first foods, first sentences... turning into first days of school, first friends and first loves.

Freedom comes. It comes slowly mind you, (damn near crawls sometimes!) but, while we are stuck in a rut we must remember - these days do not last. They will be a memory sooner than you think. You are still you.

So, if you're reading this and can relate on any level - we encourage you to find that new happiness. At some point, you have to stop getting lost in the past and worrying about the future; focus on the here and the now. Be present. Enjoy that baby. Know he will not be 15 pounds of snuggle forever. Know he will not need you to eat, fall asleep, and change his poop forever. The feeling of loneliness doesn't last forever. The feeling of only existing to fuel another human doesn't last forever. It fades away as the days pass and you adapt to your new life with your new tiny person. They're yours and, just remember that this point in time, you are their entire world.
If you keep in mind to focus on the present, you will start to uncover that new sense of happiness: First thing in the morning smiles, mid afternoon nap times, the excitement they have when they see you walk into a room, seeing tiny clothes in the dryer. One of my favorite things to see is pink lint. This sounds odd, so let me explain: after my baby shower with my daughter, I came home and washed all of her new clothes so I could put them away. In the dryer, I found pink lint in the lint catch. I was nine months pregnant with my firstborn and as I cleaned out the pink lint, I was so overcome with emotion - I cried. (Over lint? What? Yes. If you're pregnant, or have been pregnant - you totally get it.) so, now, six years later - I still do her laundry separate and I look for the pink lint and it's always there. And I always smile. Sometimes, it's mixed with some glitter or sparkles, but it's always pink. That's joy. That's happiness.

And when you achieve this sense of new happiness in being a mom, you somehow learn to appreciate others. Instead of scrolling social media and hating anyone who is leaving their house at their own free will, you can be happy for them. And share your own happiness. Post those baby first smile pictures, share their first Halloween costume, post that silly video of them eating peas for the first time. For some moms, sharing is a coping mechanism. Don't knock it, just appreciate their happiness.

Learn to appreciate everyone's happiness, because now you can understand how hard it can be to achieve sometimes.

[This article was written in conjunction with Lindsay Sommers. She is a Jersey Shore native, new mom to sweet Wyatt, yoga instructor, Arbonne extrordinare and lover of books, running marathons, and natural living. Check her out on Instagram - @yogimomma2018]