It Gets Better

Okay, okay. It does get better.

Everyone says that, and it really truly does. But not nearly as quickly as one would like. I'd say it's taken me - knock on wood - a solid 8 weeks to feel comfortable juggling mamahood with fulltime work. And it's not as though I have it all figured out. But I at least feel like my old self again.

Sometimes I love my job - the patients, my colleagues, filling my brain full to the brim during my fellowship - other times not so much. Some days I feel like exercising (like, once a month??), but usually don't. I wake up very tired after not fewer than 4 snooze buttons, but in a good mood and with just a normal amount of protest about getting out of bed so early. I do long for the days of lazing around in bed until noon with my little Bean. But like I said, those are days of old. She doesn't want to laze around in bed nursing and sleeping the day away anymore. So even if I wasn't working, I'd still be getting up by 7 a.m. every morning to that squinty-eyed toothless grin. I feel more in a groove with the people at work, too. I feel like they now respect me as a clinician, and like I'm learning to hold my ground much better. I know my house is messy, but find myself enjoying my weekend free time rather than cleaning up dog hair. In general, I'm feeling less defined by "I just had a baby and that's all I can think about and why doesn't anyone else seem to understand," and more like, "Hi my name's Jo, I'm a speech pathology fellow at the VA, and I have a really great husband and perfectly chubby baby at home waiting for me to play. Oh yeah, and I have a short little dog who pees on the carpet."

The major stressors in my life - which are really more minor than major these days - continue to be time, fatigue, and pumping.

As for time, it's the same old story for all of us, there's never enough of it. The irony of growing up (and getting older), is that time goes by with increasing rapidity, and life becomes more full with responsibility, all the while interests and hobbies and social circles expand. How on earth are we supposed to fit it all in?!? And whatever happened to that 9-year-old who thought her 10th birthday was just eons away?!? Now I feel like 40 is closer than I'd like. I can generally deal with the stress of time flying and just enjoying the fast ride, but on occasion I've been known to throw a tantrum or two about not having enough time to do all the things I want to do (crafts, organizing, talking to friends) after doing all the things I have to do (working, laundry, grocery shopping, chores).

As for fatigue, I've always categorized myself as a lazy, low-energy kind of gal. I've never had excess fuel I just have to burn off at the gym. I don't wake up in the morning raring to get things done. I wasn't that high school kid who simultaneously played two sports, a musical instrument, was in the school play AND held a part-time babysitting job. I don't wake up early to exercise, clean the house, wash the diapers, walk the dog and make breakfast for Alex before he gets up. And I can hardly survive with less than 7 hours sleep. The difference between now and two months ago isn't necessarily that I'm sleeping more or less, but it's that I'm not motivated by the same level of stress and anxiety that I was when I first went back to work. I therefore have less nervous energy to propel me around to do things like make lists of things to do. I'm tired after work and am perfectly content to curl up with my family on our "day bed" to cuddle and make faces at each other. So maybe it's not the fatigue I continue to battle, but my own expectations of the energy I should have and all the things I should be able to do. Aah, there are those "shoulds" again.

And as for pumping, it's just the worst. It's not as big of a deal as it once was - trying to navigate scheduling a pump break meanwhile seeing all my patients and appeasing my supervisors - but I still hate interrupting my day, whether at work or at home, to strap on a shitty bandeau bra with cones attached to a stupid "ra-er-ra-er-ra-er-ra-er" machine. I mostly hate that it's not instant gratification like nursing is, and that if I don't get 10 oz in 10 minutes I feel like an epic booby failure. I have, however, come to accept my fate and am trying to build a loving relationship with the device that helps me feed the Bean. She's got rolls in all the right places and cheeks that look as though she's smuggling cotton, so Medela must be doing something right.

All in all, yeah, it has definitely gotten better. Plus I have an end in sight - November 16th, to be exact. I'm about halfway through my post-maternity leave stint at the VA. It's time, now, to start thinking about applying for jobs, and how I will execute the balance of personal life and professional life that I've been working toward. So to my friend's whose future selves might be in the same boat, I can say "it gets better" from experience. And I have this blog post to document that I felt that way - even for a day.