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by Sara Ellington
The class I’d like to see childbirth educators add to their list.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I took every class the hospital offered, from Breastfeeding to Taking Care of Baby. But what really would have helped me is a class that doesn’t exist. A class I’d like to call “Taking Care of Mama.” You know the old saying, “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
About a week after I got home from the hospital with my perfect little baby, nobody in my house was happy because I was miserable. I remember standing at the window in the early morning darkness of a cold rainy Monday watching my husband’s car leave our driveway his first day back to work. All I could think was “The world is going on without me.” I’d given up my career to stay at home with my baby, but suddenly found myself wondering what the hell I was thinking. My days now consisted of changing diapers, trying to (unsuccessfully) breastfeed a fussy baby every 15 minutes, washing endless loads of laundry and watching way too much mindless daytime television. I signed up for this?
Two weeks later I was consumed with dark feelings. When I had to force myself to eat, I knew this was a problem bigger than the “baby blues.” I knew this was postpartum depression, even though I couldn’t make my mouth form the words.
You have to understand, I was the woman who couldn’t wait to be a stay-at-home mom. So when the dark feelings came out of nowhere, I was completely unprepared. I went to all those classes to learn how to diaper and swaddle a baby. I knew how to give the baby a bath and I was even prepared for that ugly umbilical cord stump thing, but I wasn’t prepared for this.
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