Take a break

Take a break. Run away with us for the summer

Lin Manuel Miranda

Last week. I did the seemingly impossible and took a break from the NICU. We were going on week six, and I had completely reached my limits as not only a mom but as a human being. Every night I was spending hours sobbing, crying every time my mom called me from Florida as well. My husband (who seriously is the best thing to ever happen to me) had been consistently urging me for weeks to take a few days off and go back to Tampa to see my house and my family. I of course was extremely against the idea. The baby wasn’t consistently stable, my anxiety over leaving him would seemingly be even worse than the feelings I was having spending every single day in intensive care. I could also just foresee all the mother shaming I would experience leaving my newborn a thousand miles away, and going off to see the sunshine state and visit my dogs.

But then I did something wild. I actually left. I didn’t think I would. The baby was more stable, we were seemingly in the home stretch of waiting. He had his dad, and in order for me to heal and succeed as a person and as a new mom, I had to go. I had to leave. I had to take five minutes to get my mental health in order, and have some semblance of normalcy. On day 122 of being away from home I turned to Jesse before bed and I said, “I have to go home.” My mother had said the exact same thing to me, and between the two of them I was convinced.

Tickets were bought, and I spent a little over 48 hours back in Florida. I got to see my nursery which had been completely designed and renovated while I was away (it is COMPLETELY stunning, my Mother-in-law and husband did and AMAZING job) I got to see my pets who seemed to have thought I had run away never to return. I got to see my HOUSE, and sleep in my BED, and drive my CAR. So many little things I had taken for granted when in town, and that were so healing and rejuvenating to me. Simple tasks like using my own kitchen and laundry room, sweeping my own floor, and eating food out of my own fridge was completely surreal. I went to Target and it was a completely spiritual experience. The week previous in Philadelphia I was having a hard time pumping milk, and my supply was really starting to dwindle. While in Florida my milk was up by about 2/3, probably just due to me feeling relaxed and in my own environment. I was able to sleep a full eight hours, run some last minute errands I needed for the baby, and pump a few days worth of milk to leave in the home freezer so we would have a slight back supply for our homecoming.

I think the only downside to me coming home briefly and re-charging was I felt embarrassed about it. I didn’t really tell many people it was happening, or see many of my family and friends for the very short time I was back, because not only was I VERY pressed for time, but I was worried what people would think. I was worried how people would feel, and perceive me as a mom. What kind of mother would leave her fresh baby, with all of his medical issues? How could she be so selfish? It hurt my heart to think what people would think about me. Mom shaming is a very real thing, and the standards new moms need to achieve are completely unattainable.

I have already felt the effects of mom shaming and my kid is barely a month old. But what people don’t realize that a big part of new motherhood tends to include losing yourself. Not on purpose, but just in the whirlwind of creating a new life, and one that requires a lot more care, we forget to think about ourselves for the most part, and unfortunately so do most people surrounding the new mom too. I had spent the last 122 days being, a vessel for life, a mother, and a patient, but I hadn’t spent many of those days feeling like an individual, and not very many of them feeling like “Laura.” The entire second half of my pregnancy was a clinical blur. I myself was healing from two abdominal surgeries, and even though I was trying to make my mental and physical health priorities, everyone around me, including myself was focused on the baby. Looking back to how I was feeling last week, and how I must have appeared to my loved ones, it is not shocking that they encouraged me to take a breather. Even just two days later I feel like a completely different person. Friends I talk to everyday have remarked even my written language seems more rested and positive, I seem very much more normal and level headed. Less depressed. A huge turn around.

I am now back with my son, and will be detailing our discharge story soon. I am back with him feeling like myself. I am Laura. I am a mom. I love my baby. However, I am also a person, and a human, with thoughts and feelings, a personality, an attitude, and an independent sense of self. He is my top priority but in order to care for him, I need to also take care of me. ❤

A Wrinkle in Time

” “She believed that the Buddhists were right- that if you want, you will suffer; If you love, you will grieve.”

Anne Lamott

Today I fully intended to write about my first few days of recovery and continue this blog in a linear fashion, but I am not having the best day and so instead I think this will be a little bit more abstract. Today marks a little over eight weeks since I have been home. I have not seen my pets, my house, or the majority of my friends in a very long time.

I do not regret making this decision. I one hundred percent think that this was the best medical decision for my son, I feel incredibly lucky that we were both candidates for this treatment, as its harder to get than one would think. I am grateful to be in a safe place to stay, and I am grateful that my husband gets to be here with me, and continue to work so that we aren’t going into complete financial ruin. But the mental and physical toll of not only recovery, but being away from anything and everything familiar is hard. Its really hard. I miss walking my dogs, I miss seeing my mom. I spent several hours two days ago just crying.

Crying because I feel displaced.

Just a short vent. Some days are easier than others