Confessions of a Postpartum Mommy.

    It's Broadway calling. We used to joke about this when we were starting out in NYC. The phone would ring and we would joke, with 100% wishfulness it were true, that Broadway was calling. Fast forward 10 years and here they were...calling. At the exact same time, our second child, Miles, was calling. The labor pains were hard and fast and once they started there was no slowing down. Miles was about to be born.
     In the delivery room, about an hour before birth, Eric got a call that Andrew Lloyd Webber wanted to see him for a final callback for School of Rock in NYC (which would be opening on Broadway that year) in 2 days and Mr. Webber would only be there for that day.  When it rains it pours and it was pouring...Babies and Broadway. Eric was torn about leaving me, so I booked his flight between contractions with Amex Points and resolve. In this moment, I was excited.  When I saw they were doing School of Rock on Broadway, I was convinced in the depths of me that he would play the lead. It was heading to Broadway for the first time and I just knew it was Eric's for the taking.
     The doctor came in to give the epidural and had to stick the yardstick sized needle in twice because they missed the first time. I realized that the IV was in my right hand and so every time I moved it gently tugged that vein out of the top of my hand.  It was uncomfortable but it was fine. It was fine. It was fine. Nothing major was wrong so how could I complain?
     Miles came into the world happy and healthy, kicking and screaming just like he is supposed to. Eric even got to catch him coming out like a little football and cut the cord. I sang to him and my body shook as I came down off of the drugs they had given me.  Kyle and Megan (Eric's brother and his now wife) brought Sophie to meet Miles and it couldn't have been a sweeter moment. Sophia wore her Big Sister T-Shirt and Miles "gave" her a gift.  It was just as it should be.
    In the recovery room, it was dark, and even with the lights on it seemed dim. I remember crying as I felt overwhelmed by all that was happening at the time. It was okay to feel that way because it was, in fact, a lot. The next day, Eric picked up my mom form the airport and brought her to meet Miles. We all headed home and Eric went to NYC to get that job. I was so glad my mom was there because with a four year old at home and bringing in a new baby, you need an extra set of hands and someone who loves you around.
   Eric got stuck in a snowstorm and couldn't return home right away so 5 days later he was able to get  back to us. Sadly, School of Rock (the original cast) went to the other guy.  It wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last time something like that happens. Hey, that's showbiz!  I'm not gonna lie though, this one hurt. (Although, we all know now that he got the 1st replacement job and did eventually play the lead in School of Rock on Broadway, it was tough to see that first one slip away).
   Mastitis (infected breast) took over my chest and my temp sky rocketed to 104.5 soon after Eric got home and my mom left. We were really in the weeds. Thank God for Sophie, because she had been bringing me water from the bathroom sink during the time between when my mom left and Eric arrived. It was scary. Eric thought clearly enough to call my doctor and she immediately called in antibiotics for me.
   What was more clear to Eric than to me was that I was NOT myself. Tears streamed down my face as I walked through the day. I couldn't get out of the funk. If you've ever seen Stranger Things and know "the upside down", that is what life was like. Everything was in it's place, all the people were there and I was going about my day, but it was as if someone turned out the lights. It was dark and had an indescribable sadness that laid heavily on it.  Something was wrong, but it was so hard for me to see it. I had Postpartum Depression and it was robbing me of life.
    Thank God, I knew enough to know this wasn't how it was supposed to be. As if I had an out-of-body experience, I watched Eric take the phone and go to the other room, talking in hushed tones to my doctor. When he came back to hand over the phone so I could talk with her, I thanked my lucky stars that we didn't live in the 50's where I might have been locked up for feeling this way. I was able to be honest with my doctor and myself about how I constantly cried and I hurt in a way that was soul crushing. I felt that no one cared about me and that because I couldn't manage my sadness that maybe it would be easier for everyone if I wasn't there. The thing is...I couldn't find the reason for the sadness. Rationalizing your emptiness is something that prevents people from getting the help they need for depression, but once I realized that this was beyond the scope of rational, I knew I needed to try to get help.
    She prescribed the highest dose of Lexipro and I battled the depression until the anti-depressant got into my system, which took abut 4 wks. I stuck with it because I desperately wanted to enjoy my baby, my child, and our life again.
    Soon, I was able to see glimpses of the old self I knew and my response to life was what I expected. In other words, it didn't take me by surprise.
    Over the next year, I continued to take the anti-depressant and I know that many people stay on them for life once they start them. For me, I knew that the hormones were leveling and I was starting to regulate at about the one year mark. I slowly tapered off of the medicine and began to cope with my normal feelings with my old standbys of tears, wine, and prayer.
    And here is what surfaced for me as true as I came around the bend and saw light at the end of the tunnel...
1.) It's okay to be sad or feel overwhelmed. Sometimes those are the cards and you have to deal with them and all the feelings that go along with it.
2.) Know when to get help. If you can't manage the feelings that are happening and don't recognize yourself, it's time to call your doctor.
3.) It gets better. I know this was a popular campaign in the last year, but it's because it's true.  The dark times sharpen and shine us. Darkness always gives way to light.

Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."

Follow us on 
https://www.instagram.com/lifestylesofabroadwaybaby
for more inspiring and funny stories.

   

The Ballad of the Ballerina

The Ballad of the Ballerina.
A Sophie Petersen original work of live theatrical art, as depicted by her mommy, Lisa Morabito Petersen.

       My 3 year old and I have a weekly tradition of going to ballet class on Tuesday morning, followed by a trip to a neighborhood coffee shop.  Soph loves it because they have pink macaroons, bistro tables for two and a shop.
       My ballerina gracefully prances her way into the shop, which has an intimacy that recalls a French cafe.  In it, she looks like a living Degas portrait.  Her pink leotard and tutu bounce playfully and her giant round eyes bob with laughter and seem exceptionally large and beautiful today, as her hair sits in a perfect ballerina bun on top of her head.  The look is completed by a bedazzled mini tiara.
     We choose our snack and grab a table.  A steady stream of admirers pass by and remind Sophie how adorable she looks and inquire about her ballerina costume.  After we enjoy our pink and green macaroons, Sophie enjoys the freedom of choosing a children's book from a magazine rack at the front of the store..."All by her self." As Mommy, I love this feature to the shop because not only does it encourage us to bring our children to the quant shop, but to sit, read, and even stay a while.  Their selection for children are mostly books with heavy themes of being environmentally friendly and scientifically minded.  Oh, it makes me feel so smart and intellectual, I could squeak like a baby dolphin.  The book about invention is followed by a book about how aliens destroyed the world because they used all the resources irresponsibly.  Now that I have patted myself on the back for being such a great guiding mommy, we peruse the store.
     The store is filled with beautiful things...trinkets, candles, paintings, etc.  Deep in the store, one table is an oasis of children's books and toys.  Sophie is relieved when I give her the "ok" to touch the items on that table.  After she thumbs through a few books, she spots a notebook shaped tin with a picture of a ballerina on the front, containing (40+!!!!) magnets to design the dancer's scene.  She turns to me, with the tin hugged to her body. "Dress ups, Mommy!!! Can I take this home with me?  Please?" she says straddling a line of begging and sensibility just perfectly.  "We have so many toys at home Soph.  We just got some things yesterday at the store," I counter.  "But I want to play with this," she argues.  By this point, I am at the cashier prepared to pay for a friend's gift.
      As I turn to look at my daughter, she transports me into her tragedy.  All of the sudden, she becomes aware of the sad French song that is playing throughout the store.  She turns from me, defeated.  Her arms slump, her head hangs forward, and she drags her feet as she forces herself to return the toy to the table. As she gets a few feet from me, the music swells, she turns to me and holds out the toy with both hands, her eyes begging me to love her by buying her this.  She knows I have made up my mind, as she hugs the toy to her chest and dramatically turns toward the table.  She holds her position, as the singer quietly explains something in French.  To the beat of the ballad, Sophie does a trudge, trudge, trudge, trudge all the way to the table.  I laugh to myself, as I think that it almost worked on me. 
       As she lifts the tin, the singer and Sophie have clearly conspired against me.  She glides the tin over it's place on the table, spins to the neighboring table and places it down, with her mournful head on top. Sophie looks up, at just the right angle that might make you mistake her for a lost puppy.  She says nothing and although I don't speak French....I'm prrrrrrtetty sure the singer was narrating Sophie's dance with a "Why don't you love me.  If you loved me, you would buy me this."  Sophie continues her dance with the tin, to the French song.  I turn away, as I can feel my resolve melting by the soft ember burn of her perfectly executed ballet.
       "Bring it to the counter," I say still facing away.
       "What?" says a little voice infused with disbelief.
       "Well," I thought, "If she can't win a Tony for that performance, she should at least get a toy."
        In all seriousness, we, as parents, are constantly caught between the idea of wanting to give them the world and wanting to teach them how to deal with not getting everything they want.  It's a road well traveled and we all do our best.  Today, she showed me she had some real artistic determination and that...I just have to appreciate.  There's a lot of nuance in parenting...and apparently that is not lost on our children.  Enjoy it because, as they say, "It will all be over too soon."


*The picture is from last week's class, but it gives you an idea of what I'm working with here.  Pure cuteness.