As any new mother knows, finding time for oneself after the birth of a baby is challenging, to say the least. Changing diapers, feeding, burping, tummy time, bath time, rocking seem to take up the majority of your day. When you're not busy engaged in one of the aforementioned activities, there's the household stuff that needs to get done, (that never seems to actually GET done); dishes, laundry, vacuuming, more laundry, cooking, taking care of the pets, grocery shopping, more laundry. At some point, you also need to find time to EAT and BATHE and SLEEP, although, I found that your options are really more limited than that; the reality is that it's often a choice between eating OR bathing OR sleeping. I remembered that craziness from Taryn's first few months of life and I was prepared for it, even knowing that I would have to do all of that x2. What I wasn't prepared for was doing it all, while also suffering with postpartum depression.
The last three months have truly been a blur. I feel lucky to have simply survived. I can't tell you how many days I went without showering; I considered myself lucky if I could actually microwave a frozen dinner and eat it while it was still hot. The only time that I took for myself was the time that I took to sleep, and when I did sleep, it was disturbed. I was so worried about not waking up if the babies cried, that my sleep was broken and restless. I clearly remember one instance in which I had gotten both babies down for a nap. I stopped in the middle of the living room and asked myself, "OK. I (should) have about 45 minutes before the babies wake up, what should I do? Should I make something to eat? Should I lay down and take a nap? Should I clean the kitchen?" The PPD amplified my emotions. If I took too long in the shower, I'd feel guilty for leaving Michael to watch the babies. If the babies woke up before the time that I estimated I had left, I'd feel frustrated and angry. If I didn't clean the house, I felt useless and pathetic. When I went back to work, it just got worse. If Michael called and I heard the babies crying in the background, I would cry, too, because I couldn't be there for them. I rushed home every night, just to go straight to baby duty.
Admittedly, I have more time now than I did before, since the twins are starting to sleep 4-5 hours between naps during the day, and 8-12 hours at night (hallelujah), but I still don't take care of myself like I know I should. Michael goes out with his friends a couple times a week after Taryn and the twins go to bed; he's able to do that since they live locally and work shift work, but I really can't. All of my friends work during the day and I work at night, so I can't hang out with any of them during the week. Michael and I have tried to make arrangements to spend some alone time together, but we have failed each time. With an active almost 2 year old, and 3 month old twins, we don't have many options for a babysitter. Heck, we feel guilty even asking someone to take on that responsibilty, if just for a few hours, because it is such a daunting task, especially when they don't cooperate.
So, last night, I finally made the decision to do something for myself. I went to the movie theater to see Harry Potter. By myself. Yep. I got the twins to sleep, made Taryn dinner, gave her a bath, put her to bed, did some dishes and left Michael asleep on the couch with the baby monitor while I went to see my movie. I was so happy to be out of the house that I didn't care that the theater was crappy, that I wasn't able to get popcorn because there was only one person working the concession stand, that the movie was 3-D when it wasn't supposed to be (I get wicked headaches from 3-D movies) or that I sat through 20 minutes of previews only to watch the first 15 minutes of the movie before it cut off. They had to restart the movie to get it to work. From the beginning. Of the previews. While I'll admit it would have been more fun to have seen the movie with someone, there's something cathartic about going to the theater alone - almost an empowerment of sorts. I got good, old fashioned "me" time. And, it was good.
Reason to smile: Teagan and Tristan falling asleep in my arms after their early morning bottle.
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