Survival

I would like to preface this next post by saying that Carter's first year was a blur. To piece together what we all went through as individuals and what we went through as a family comes back to me only in flashbacks. Some nice to remember, but some extremely traumatic. I refuse to sugarcoat our feelings and our experiences because that is what I believe holds a lot of people, especially mothers, down. When you become a mother, people forget you are still many other things. They expect you to act, talk, dress a certain way. Any negative feelings you have after your baby is born are WRONG and you know what? That is just not true. In fact, I don't know one mother, typical child or disabled, that did not feel any negative feelings at least once. They should be felt and they should be acknowledged.

Year one: Survival

Casey and I spent the first 3 months of Carter's life as you can imagine any new parents would. We were now in charge of a new, beautiful life. It was kind of a hard beginning, but after reading all the "what to expect" books, I knew it was part of the deal. Things would certainly get easier.

To begin, Carter never slept and for many months, our sleep was in 2 hour increments, trading with each other all night with Carter on our chest. Sleep-deprivation is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. As Carter grew, I became more anxious as he was not hitting any milestones and that anxiety, coupled with sleep deprivation, became a ticking time-bomb between Casey and me. I knew there was an issue, yet no one, including Casey, took me seriously. So I stuffed my anxieties in my pocket and tried to move on with my days.

During this time, I also attempted to breastfeed, ending up in a ball of tears in a corner because Carter could not latch or drink enough and I could not produce enough. We went to formula very early on after ending up in the emergency room with Carter aspirating, something I had never heard of. I was starting to feel like a failure. He was so incredibly fussy all the time. I felt like he just hated being alive. Months and months of being surrounded by no sleep and irritability that you can do nothing to fix, will wear on a person. I am not ashamed to say there were many times I had to lay Carter in a safe place and go outside to scream or throw something.

I hid my anxiety from everyone for a long time. As a mother, I felt that something was very different about my baby, but it wasn't something I was ready to talk about, for fear that it would become some self-fulfilling prophecy. So I prayed. I prayed in the bathtub, I prayed in bed, I prayed while I drove. I was constantly praying that everything would be okay. I just could not for the life of me understand why my baby would not acknowledge my existence. I was angry. And it was an anger that I have never felt. Why me? Why us? In the back of my mind, all I could continue asking myself was, What did I do that was so wrong in my life, that I am punished with this?

What did I do to cause his issues? Was it the apartment we lived in? Was it moldy? Was it lead from any paint I had been around? Maybe it was the anxiety medication I continued to take during my pregnancy. Maybe I was so stressed out and scared, I made him have a stroke while he was in my belly. I was his home for 8 months. My home for him was just not good enough. I wish I could say this first year was easy. It wasn't and with Carter growing, his issues were becoming more apparent and my mental health was deteriorating. This year was strictly based on survival.