This past week at church, someone asked me how I was doing, and for the first time since giving birth to my twins back in February, I answered, “Well, I was doing great.”
After weeks of just smiling and nodding whenever someone told me how great I was doing and how they had no idea how I was managing it all, it felt nice to freely admit to someone that I’m actually… not okay.
I went back to school. I went back to work. Life moved on, because it had to. But then, everyone else moved on, too.
The meal train left the station for the last time. No one was volunteering to come help me clean my house anymore. The texts checking in on the babies became less frequent, and the texts checking in on me, even less so.
None of this was the result of any maliciousness or malintent — I just appeared to be handling things okay, so everyone took that at face value and assumed that I was doing okay, too. I can’t blame anyone for falling for the facade, because even I fell for it. I, too, assumed that I was doing okay.
But once the casseroles stopped showing up on our doorstep, once the weekend help turned into my own to-do list, once seeing me at work or school became less of a shock to others and simply another Tuesday, something inside me shifted. The “I can do it all!” persona lost its sparkle, and my “I’m totally fine” mask began to slip.
I was prepared for baby blues and postpartum depression. My OB had even warned me that my mental health could potentially be far worse than normal postpartum depression, thanks to the double dose of hormones in my body as a result of twin pregnancy. I was prepared.
What I wasn’t prepared for is everything that I’m experiencing now, four months in.
I skipped out of my six-week appointment happy as clam, thinking that the depression screening was a one-time quiz I had passed with flying colors. I am a seasoned (ish) mom. I should have known better than to think the postpartum period ended at only six weeks. Yet somehow, I still felt completely blindsided when I made it to weeks nine, ten, and eleven, and suddenly life felt hard.
It’s hard to articulate exactly what it is that feels harder now at four months than it did back at only one month. I guess a good place to begin is that for starters, my brain feels like this most days:
Mashed potatoes. Mush. Slop.
I struggle to form sentences like I used to. Recalling facts and details feel like an Olympic sport. I have a hard time articulating myself like I could even a few weeks ago. Whether it’s at school or writing on here, I find myself increasingly frustrated at how what once was simple, is now a struggle. My ability to write and communicate well has always felt central to my identity, so to have that change in any well feels like a mini identity-crisis of sorts.
On the one hand, it makes sense that my brain is having to work harder at law school and at work. Postpartum brain fog is a real phenomenon, after all. It might take me longer to get things done, and it might take a little bit more mental effort, but things are still getting done.
When it comes to socializing though? Different story entirely.
Most days, I wake up, pump, take care of kids, go to work, come home, and then after the kids go to bed, I study. I see the same people every day, and the interactions are all predictable and usually task orientated. At work, I’m given an assignment and then left alone to complete it. At home, I juggle chores and watching the kids with relative ease. I mostly keep to myself unless someone needs me, and since I’m conversing with people under the age of eight, I don’t notice anything wrong.
But social interactions are different. Every time I go to class, or go out with friends, I realize that it almost feels like I don’t know how to talk to adults anymore, especially adults that aren’t parents. I am one of the only friends in any of my circles to have any kids, much less five. I have a hard time turning off my “mom brain” and simply being present with my friends, engaging in conversations about work and school and hobbies. I end up mostly listening, rather than participating, because it’s as if my brain can’t move fast enough to even come up with what to say.
I am sure that the postpartum brain fog is contributing to the arguably more damaging issue I’m dealing with postpartum, which is my newly-acquired raging insecurity about everything.
I worry that my friends hate me. That my older kids resent me. That my husband is secretly mad at me. That too much of my hair is falling out, and that my postpartum acne is even more noticeable to everyone else than it is to me. If someone takes longer than a few minutes to respond to a text, I assume that I’ve somehow upset them. I worry that everything I say and write will be taken the wrong way.
I could go on forever. I know the thoughts are completely baseless. I know that everything I am feeling right now is the result of all of the hormonal changes my body is going through right now, not to mention the sheer exhaustion that probably isn’t helping.
Despite knowing all of this, it’s hard to believe it. It’s hard to quiet what I’ve deemed the “postpartum part of my brain” that some days threatens to run wild. It takes a lot of conscious effort, every day, to sort through my thoughts with a fine-tooth comb and figure out what I actually think. Learning to do this has been key to me protecting my peace these past few weeks.
Overall, I’d rate the first seven weeks of being postpartum with twins a 3/10, but I’d rate weeks seven up until now a 6/10. Not impossible, but definitely harder than I expected. Difficult enough to catch me off guard.
These next few months, my main goals are to continue to find ways to fill my own cup, in addition to taking care of everyone else. I am sad that I cannot run like I would like to without affecting my milk supply (a story for another post), but I can still enjoy shorter runs, long walks, writing, baking, and hiking. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine how I will ever feel “normal” again, but focusing on all of the things in life I can still enjoy will help keep me distracted from the things that still aren’t how I would like them to be.
Postpartum is a roller coaster that nothing can fully prepare you for. You can do all the research you want beforehand, but nothing compares to actually living it. And once you’re there, all you can do is take things one day at a time.
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