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Why am I crying so much? Why am I so sad? Tears splattered into the sink full of dirty dishes. I dabbed my eyes with my sleeve as the dishpan filled with soapy water. Having a baby is supposed to be a happy occasion, so why aren't I happy?
Just months before, my husband, Ed, and I'd become the proud parents of Jennifer Elese. After five years of trying to conceive, my family, friends, and colleagues were so happy for us they gave me six baby showers! We went through parenting classes and read several books to prepare us intellectually for raising our baby. But nothing prepared me for the emotional crisis that soon followed.
It began with nursing. When I was sure Jennifer was fast asleep, I gently unlatched her from me and laid her down. However, the moment her head touched the mattress, she woke up and started crying. I couldn't stand to let her cry, so I picked her up and started nursing again. After repeating this process over and over with no success, I finally broke down and cried, too.
For the first month of her life, I was home with Jennifer every day. Part of this was due to Chinese tradition (which was to allow the mother to recover from childbirth), and part was to avoid exposing our baby to possible illnesses. I'll never forget what one friend told me: "You'll never be normal again. Get used to it."
Suddenly all my activities revolved around Jennifer's schedule. I couldn't even take a shower unless my husband was home, in case she woke up and needed to be changed or held before I fed her. It seems cruel to compare caring for a baby to being tortured in prison, but that's how I sometimes felt. I was locked up in the house, "breast-cuffed" with sore nipples to a little crying machine.
Despite my difficulties, kissing and cuddling our baby gave me a wonderful feeling inside. I loved little Jennifer very much; I just couldn't stop crying and feeling overwhelmed by sadness.
God must have known I'd have such a difficult time adjusting to motherhood because he surrounded me with supportive people. He gave me the most loving husband a woman could ask for. Because Ed saw what a difficult time I was having, he did everything for the baby except breast-feed her.
My mother was helpful, too, and came to stay with me when Ed went on a business trip. While she was visiting, I started crying in the shower one morning, overcome by despair. My mother knocked on the door to see if I was okay. After I assured her I was, she encouraged me to stop breast-feeding so I could have a bit of freedom. I still thought breast-feeding was best for my baby, so I chose not to follow her advice.
When Jennifer was three weeks old, my in-laws came for a visit. Suddenly, I had an irrepressible urge to leave the house since there were enough adults around to handle whatever could come up. I went grocery shopping, and even though I was gone only 30 minutes, I felt so relieved to get out of the house and do something "normal."
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