What in the world was I thinking? Sleeping into 11 am yesterday and feeling a little more rested than usual, enough to chance drinking a venti black and white from Starbucks on an empty stomach, and having faith that my usual tolerance to caffeine would have no affect on my sleep schedule; man was I wrong. I haven’t had experience with insomnia and tiredness like this since God knows when, and let me just say that it’s not a great mix of feelings. I’m T-w-a-k-e; tired and awake at the same time. But this isn’t your usual feeling of tiredness after working 8 hours straight, and your counting down the seconds until you can leave, so that the joys of entering back into ‘real life’ outside four walls can invigorate you once again.
I’m so awake right now that I’m exhausted even thinking about what this day will be like without any sleep. It’s been over five days since my surgery and since the drowsy affects of my prescribed pain medicine, has graciously taken the place of my day to day prescribed sleep aide. I wish I had reintroduced it back into my life three hours ago when I had noticed that the usual drowsiness was lingering a little to long, and not even close to a state of rapid eye movement or vivid dreams. But, I can’t harp on what I should have done, because it won’t change the fact that I’m still twake.
Astonishingly, I’m not feeling the fog of sadness I usually have, even though I’m a little frustrated that my eyes are heavy, are very aware of how peaceful Derrick is sleeping next to me, but can’t seem to find peace themselves.
Today is my daughter Sage’s first birthday. It’s been one whole year since I surprisingly gave birth early by c section, to a beautiful baby girl with a head full of jet black hair. Maybe this is why I can’t sleep; my subconscious is playing tricks on me again. I’m consciously and honestly not even thinking about anything but trying to go to sleep, but for some reason, I’m assuming my subconscious is reliving the events of 12 months ago. This time last year I’m sure I was asleep though, even with an extremely large belly at 36 weeks pregnant.
I may have been sleeping peacefully, but for a few weeks prior, I had little peace mentally. I decided to wean off of my antidepressants, a mutual decision between my doctor and I, because my mood became as normal as any woman with raging hormones, and I wanted the chance for the baby to develop without being hooked to antidepressants. But a few weeks before giving birth, I needed those pills, in fact I thought about asking for them, but was so caught up in denial of the possibility that depression was still a part of my life, coupled with the fear of my baby going through withdraws, kept me from voicing my struggles. I felt low; an indescribable low that I could only attribute to what I felt when I was depressed, and a feeling so low that I became petrified of until the moment Sage was born.
I was happy, learning how to recover once again from a knife to my womb, and trying to wrap my mind around being a mom to not one, but two kids. I didn’t get overwhelmed until I had her and became instantly terrified of how I would juggle it all, while still feeling that familiar low. It wasn’t until I took the postpartum depression screening while in the hospital, that denial turned into a cry for help. I couldn’t handle the new stress, hormones going haywire, and an already lower than low mood. The psychiatrist came, asked me some questions, and those questions earned me another prescription for antidepressants. I was greatful, but knowing me, I knew I had a long road to go to get to a place of neutrality in my mood, to feel like I could somewhat handle everything I had going on (it usually takes me 6-8 weeks to start feeling the effects of a new medicine).
But I unashamedly and frustratingly took the the pills as scheduled daily, went home with a brand new beautiful baby, all while missing my mom’s presence on account of my dad experiencing a similar low (familial low), and going home to a 17 month old who was livid with me for bringing the baby home from the hospital that she was sure would stay. Talk about stress. There were tears of course from the seemingly strained relationship of the perfect bond I had with my oldest baby girl, tears from missing my parents, and more tears from my sweet grandmother whispering softly that “she’s a baby and doesn’t understand”, but even her kindness and reassurance couldn’t help me in those moments.
August 3rd 2015 and the days to follow, were rough, but the light in what seemed like an overwhelming amount of darkness, was my daughter; daughters. Sage came into this world with a health scare, had to be in the intensive care unit for over 8 hours after delivery, but now has developed into an even more beautiful, cuddly, always happy, little girl; and her big sister adores her, and they adore each other. We’ve come a long way since August 2015; not to long after bringing sage home and having my mom’s mom by my side for three weeks, my grandmother passed away, making my relapse into depression a little more difficult, but somehow I got through it. I’m getting through it; still grieving and recovering from relapse, but to see my girls happy and healthy everyday, gives me so much joy in sadness.
I’m so honored to be their mom and I’m so honored that Sage came safely into this world today, one year ago. Her birth was not only a blessing, but now with the absence of my grandmother on this earth, her birth means even more, and is a chance for me to be able to reflect on the good and stressful times, with tears of joy and appreciation that I was able to share that time with my grandmother during last year. Though I may continue to be twake, until I can be twake no more, I will continue to reflect with joy on this monumental event of last, until my eyes are heavy no more.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAGE! Today we celebrate!