Lifeline

A few good chunks of sleep (for me, not for my insomniac daughter) and a good day for her means I have a little more reserve in my tank today than yesterday. It doesn't mean it's not still hard. In fact, days like today where more things go right than not make it even harder the next bad day, because wasn't it getting better? Nonetheless. There were less tears today (again, for me, not her), and I felt more like myself.

A big part of my ability to get through days like yesterday lies in my network of amazing mamas who are only a text or phone call away. They tell me it does get better, drive way too far to meet me for dinner, commiserate, listen to me vent, send me totally cute pictures of their little ones, and yes, even send Ben and Jerry's to my doorstep. Those are real friends, people.

When I was in the haze of the fourth trimester, these women were my lifeline. When I was housebound because nine-pound-baby-with-ninety-ninth-percentile-head-in-40-minutes-of-pushing, they texted me, brought meals, gave me padsicles (google it the next time you don't know what to bring a new mom), and generally made life more tolerable. More crucial than that, they told me that everything I was feeling was totally normal. Isolation? Normal. Inadequacy? Normal. Cabin fever? Normal. Amnesia? Normal. Guilt? Normal. Boredom? Normal. Thinking my baby was totally adorable and wanting to document every day with a dozen pictures? Normal. Resenting my husband because cluster feeding? Normal. Couldn't remember the last time I showered? Normal.

Nothing in my training as a pediatrician helped get me through those first few weeks, and every week since, but these friends did. Dads, bless their hearts, for all their rough-housing, raspberry-blowing, rub-some-dirt-in-it wonderfulness, just don't get it. But other moms do.

I told one of these great friends that just like we do safety plans for suicidal kids, making them write down the names of adults they trust that they will tell if they feel unsafe, we should make pregnant women write down the names of at least three other moms that they feel comfortable texting when they're sleep-deprived crazy zombies and thinking they're about to throw in the towel. This should be standard pregnancy care so that after delivery, it's automatic. They're already on speed dial.

I'm so, so grateful for those mamas that continue to be my lifeline (seriously, you guys, Ben and Jerry's on the front porch!), that continue to respond to my middle of the night texts, that keep telling me I'm not alone, that I'm a good mom. If you are a new mom, find those women in your life. If you were one of those women for me, thank you from the bottom of my heart.