When I got home from the hospital after having Katie, we hit the ground running. 4th trimester, 4th time. I love that they call it the 4th trimester. It’s so appropriate. And, honestly, for me, it’s the hardest trimester. Being pregnant was damn near easy compared to taking care of a whole family while bleeding in pain and experiencing the most intense drop in hormones that a creature can experience. Your heart, mind, and body are in pieces sucked up in a whirling tornado and you have to be able to look at screaming 3, 5, and 6 year-olds and gentle parent. LOL. It’s cool. We all crying together up in here. We all emotionally UNregulated. Did you know the hormone drop after giving birth is such an extreme crash it would take a man over 125 years (although I did see 180 in my recent google search) of normal age-related testosterone decline to experience what we experience in like 24 hours? And they wonder why we seem crazy!

The kids had a week left of summer before school began, so they all had their special time with their new baby sister. She was an even keeled baby to start! She took right to breastfeeding and would drift right off to sleep after eating during the night. I definitely fell asleep sitting up in bed feeding her more times than I’d like to admit, but we survived the early weeks without any major problems with her. She was and still is constantly entertained and bewildered by her older siblings. It’s hilarious to watch.

The first day home we had so many visitors. I’ll always remember that feeling of comfort of walking into a house full of love. You can literally SEE the love. There’s nothing like it. My body, physically rundown and not in a condition for people to be around, and yet my brain and my heart need people. No shame in my game anymore. It’s nice to have that to hold on to for the times when your heart and mind begin to drift.

Zach unfortunately got poison ivy all over him a few days in and he had to take a steroid, so he was all hopped up. He was also afraid to touch Katie with bare hands in case he spread it to her, which I didn’t think he could, but he got paranoid about it. Needless to say, I was holding her a lot. We assumed the roles of coworkers while he had time off. It seems we’ve done that each time with a new baby. We know what has to be done and we do it. He handled the big ones a lot, while I was 24/7 baby duty. He also went on a Lego buying bender. Men definitely go through their own postpartum journey and Legos were part of Zach’s this time. Every day, new sets of Legos from eBay came in the mail. I was like, where the hell are we going to put all these Legos?! They still take over my dining room table and a few sets are in the China cabinet. We don’t have China, but we have a small scale Millennium Falcon displayed! Note to self, if Zach has to take steroids, do not let him go on eBay. 

It didn’t help matters that I got an infection in my arm where my IV was. One afternoon the first week home, we went to the pool. Zach took the big ones to swim and I sat inside with my parents. I began to cry and told them that I really was not feeling right. I felt feverish and more fatigued rather than feeling like I was improving. I had this awful soreness in my arm just above where my IV had been and there was a hard ball like lump. I showed my Dad. “Jesus, you have an infection.” Nothing some antibiotics couldn’t fix, but damn, I felt pretty awful pretty quick from that. It’s crazy how something like that can begin to infect your whole body. In retrospect, it makes sense it got infected. When the nurse took my IV out, I bled everywhere. I think I bled more out of my arm than I did during delivery. Some kind of bacteria must have gotten in there.

The big kids went off to school seamlessly. We even brought Katie along to drop them off. It’s a small community, so everyone knew I had been pregnant. The teachers and some of the kids’ friends made a big fuss over her. Once the big ones started school, Peter very much enjoyed living like a postpartum Mom…a lot of baby snuggles, snacks, TV, and lying around for him. He also spent some one on one time with his Dad. Being a younger sibling myself, I know how special it cane be to get time alone with your parents.

After the first couple weeks, some nerve pain settled in. I knew it would happen. And of course it hit when Zach was back to work. He does work from home, which has been good for us, but that dynamic has also made me feel like I’m constantly performing. Even though it’s been six years of him working upstairs, some days it’s still taxing on me. I am probably being redundant because I am pretty sure I wrote about this nerve pain in another post, but alas, the life of a mother, constant repetition.

The nerve pain has happened each time for me. After the adrenaline and drugs from delivery wear off completely, the pain sets in. The nerve pain was WICKED this time though and lasted longer. I had a few stitches, so using the bathroom was no picnic for at least the first 8 weeks and then my nerves regenerated there, oh, boy they came back with a vengeance. The pain would come and go and it was totally unpredictable when it would come. Like it would shock me and I’d double over in pain. So I’d be fine and then randomly I’d feel like someone was stabbing me in my pelvic area. It made me feel so depressed. It’s like I’d be feeling good, taking one step forward and then two steps back for a few weeks.

Peter was having trouble settling for bed at night around this time too. I think it was a combination of adjusting to a new baby and he was having tonsil issues too. He had a sleep study in October and they diagnosed what I had been saying for a year, “Oh yeah, he has bad sleep apnea and needs his tonsils adenoids out.” DUH. They decided to do a shave method, which is pretty cool. They shave the tonsils down and leave a little bit of them left to help with protecting his throat from viruses.

I feel like from September-December I would lay with him almost every night. There were a few nights I’d lie there and cry from the nerve pain. It’s silly to think, because I knew recovery took time. I always preach to my friends who have babies, take your time. Don’t rush yourself. And yet, every time, that little voice in my head says, “Get better fast. Get back on your feet. Bounce back, everyone needs you.” I thought maybe my “bounce” back would be even easier, but I only set myself up for disappointment. There were some nights I’d be lying with Peter and I could hear Katie screaming. I’d get upset and take her from Zach. I’d nurse her while lying next to Peter in his bed and hold back tears from nerve pain. Zach would say, “I can do it. Let me take her.” I refused and insisted on handling it myself. Stubborn. And then, I’d get up the next day, get the kids ready for school and do it all again. As much as I am willing to accept help, I do get stubborn about just doing things myself, which often causes more tension. Something I’ve been trying to work on.

On a funnier note, constipation was rough this time in the beginning because as per usual I was dehydrated. I know what you’re thinking, butt, Kate, constipation? That shits not funny! Well, in the spirit of being honest, let me set the scene because it was rather funny.

One night I took a laxative and let’s just say I had a blow out. Words of wisdom, DO NOT take a laxative if you have postpartum constipation, especially after having a few babies. Those muscles are NOT prepared for that. Probably didn’t need to reveal that to the world, but if you’re a new mom or experienced mom who has shat themselves, just know you are not alone. 

I had been feeling HORRIBLE all day with stomach pain. I took a Dulcolax thinking, oh yeah, this will get me going. In the evening, after the big kids were in bed, I was feeding Katie on the sofa. Zach was next to me watching TV. Suddenly, the most horrendous feeling overcame me.

“Um, I gotta go to the bathroom right now,” I said to Zach and I stood up. Katie was still nursing.

“Okay, hand me the baby,” he said.

The feeling was so unnerving that I didn’t have time to hand her to him. I just started to walk.

I said “No, forget it. I can’t.” She continued nursing and I gingerly walked towards the stairs. I was still wearing giant pads and the situation there wasn’t yet copasetic as it were to begin with. I thought if I made any SUDDEN movements some UNWANTED movements would occur.

“Here, let me take her,” Zach said as he followed close behind me. 

As I turned the corner, so did my luck. 

I put one foot on the step. “DON’T FOLLOW ME!” I shouted. 

I couldn’t control myself. I walked up the stairs to our bathroom and, let’s just say, by the time I got there all was lost.

“Oh my God,” I said to myself. I placed Katie safely on the bathroom floor away from me. 

“TAKE THIS BABY FROM ME. AND PLEASE, GET ME A TRASH BAG,” I yelled down to Zach. 

He came up and cracked the door open. I was behind the door.

“Leave the bag, take the baby. Don’t look at me!” 

He did as he was instructed. I unraveled. It was a massacre. I don’t even think I cried. I just laughed at myself. Needless to say my stomach felt a hell of a lot better. My dignity, not so much. I trashed my pants.

I got thoroughly cleaned up. Like, it took a while, I wasn’t trying to get any bacteria in my already vulnerable area. For weeks after that, I was convinced I was going to get an infection.

I went back downstairs. Zach handed me Katie. We didn’t speak of it. We carried on the rest of the evening as if nothing happened. You may be gagging because of disgust or gagging because of laughter, hopefully the latter! 

The holidays brought a few challenges outside of having an infant. My Dad’s back began to get worse pretty quickly due to spinal stenosis and it was decided he needed back surgery. One of the hardest parts of getting older is seeing my parents in vulnerable positions. My Dad is a strong guy. He’s always been able to do/lift anything and never takes days off, so seeing him struggle with his back was hard. I felt bad for my Mom too, the ever present caretaker. She looked exhausted from picking up the slack and trying to help Dad. My worry for them coincided with postpartum hormones, it was a tough mix. 

His surgery was scheduled for just before Thanksgiving. The night he was being operated on, I went to the hospital with my aunt Clare. We sat in the lobby with my Mom. We talked and laughed a lot. Laughter is often a good mechanism for my Mom’s family to get through the worrisome times. I can remember I was so tired my eyes burned. My Mom insisted I stay home because Katie was 3 months old and exclusively breastfeeding. Burning eyes and a swollen chest wouldn’t keep me from being by my Mom’s side when she needed the company. Doesn’t matter how routine or how positive the predictions, surgery of any kind is scary. I can imagine it’s even scarier when you’re of a certain age and when you’re medically minded and know all the worst case scenarios. My aunt Clare and I stayed with my Mom for a while. Soon after we had left, we heard the surgery went well.  

The next day I was on the phone with them. Dad was on his laptop doing charts. Can’t stop the working man.  Doctors aren’t very good at being patients.

They had asked me to pick up some mushrooms for a Thanksgiving dish, so I went to the grocery store with Peter, while Zach was home with the other 3. We were rushing through the aisles so I could get back before Katie woke up from her nap. I remember I turned down an aisle that the mushrooms were in and suddenly I couldn’t see clearly out of my right eye. It was kind of like a jagged flash of light distorting my vision. My heart began to race, my breathing shallowed. I felt a cold sweat come over me. What in the hell, was I going blind?! Was I having a stroke? I said to Peter we needed to leave. I rushed him back to the car, my vision was still distorted. When I began to drive, I went slow. The light began to move to the outer edge of my eye. When I got home, I was freaking out. I didn’t know who else to call other than my Dad. Fresh out of surgery, he was giving me medical advice. 

“Oh, that’s just an ocular migraine. I used to get those in my 30s. Just lie down and close your eyes for a little bit. It will pass.”

I had never had that happen to me before. It was the strangest sensation. I didn’t even have a headache. But, after some rest, it did pass. In retrospect, it was a physical manifestation of the stress I was under. It was wild! I don’t think stress ever affected my vision that way. Broken body, broken sleep, a hungry little baby draining me dry, 3 other kids and a husband needing me to be at the top of my game, and my worry for my parents at an all time high. Perfect storm for an ocular migraine! I couldn’t help feeling like a failure. I was happy and having fun, and, yet, I felt like I couldn’t hold it together some days. I was depleted to the max.

Thanksgiving came and my parents stayed home for it while the rest of us went to my brother’s house. They were depressed about not being at the actual event. I too was sad they missed Katie’s first Thanksgiving dinner. It was weird. I felt grateful though that they were nearby and we were all able to check in on them as needed. Life doesn’t slow down just because your heart, mind, and body need it to. That’s been a tough concept for me. Coming off of having babies. It’s a rush of excitement and adrenaline and a crowd of people and then whoosh, back to real life. Get up and get to it. No rest for the weary. Other people have ups and downs too. You are not the only one going through something. That’s a big lesson I’ve learned growing up in a big family. It’s important. Helps keep you humble and aware that we’re all hustling at one point or another.

Early December, Peter was scheduled to get his tonsils removed. Zach, Katie and I took him to his visit. Poor Peter, he has had some doozies with breathing difficulties. He had been doing well with asthma like instances on his steroid inhaler, but his large tonsils and adenoids were causing sleep apnea. I had very high hopes that getting his tonsils shaved and adenoids removed would only further help in solving his breathing difficulties. I felt so anxious for him. We sat with him and tried to explain what was going to happen. They gave him what they call “giggle juice,” so he was calm when they took him away. I’ll never forget his little face as he said good bye to us. I felt so awful. It’s the worst when they encounter something that you cannot fix. I know I made the efforts to get him the help he needs, so that’s good on me, but still. It’s just tragic when they have to do something so big on their own. And Peter has had more of those instances than his siblings. Thankfully, it was super quick and he was the bravest boy and in the long run it has helped him tremendously.

After the surgery, we waited in the room until he came out of his “giggle juice” stupor. Katie was as pleasant as could be sitting in my lap the whole time. As I sat there, I thought man this room smells so bad. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why it smelled. I figured, ya know, hospitals have weird smells. Oh, well. When he was good to go, we helped him change and got him home.

After we got home, I was sitting with him and Katie on the sofa and I said, “It’s so weird, I still smell that awful smell from the hospital. Must be stuck in my nose.” I said to Zach, “Did you smell that? His room smelled like dirty feet. It was awful!” Zach looked at me funny, “That’s weird. I didn’t smell anything at all.” Which, didn’t surprise me much, I tend to pay more attention to smells than Zach.

Katie began to fuss, so I got up to change her diaper and her outfit. I lifted her arm to pull it out of the sleeve, and omg, the smell was horrific when I lifted her arm. It was red, and raw, and like flaky skin. Of course, I immediately FaceTimed my parents.

“Oh poor thing! That’s a yeast infection,” my parents said in unison.

OMG, I am the worst Mom ever. Sitting at the bedside of my 3-year-old tonsil patient with a 4 month old baby with a stinky armpit thinking it’s the hospital that smells and all the while it’s my cute little baby!

I cried to Zach. “I’ve been walking around all day with a stinky ass baby! The poor thing has yeast in her armpit. I’m a terrible Mom!” Ultimately, we had a good laugh about it. I’m sure I would have noticed it if my mind wasn’t laser focused on Peter. For any Moms who have a baby with yeasty armpits, I used Aquaphor under there. Worked well.

By the holidays, most of my physical pain I had was beginning to subside thank God. I even scheduled an early visit (4 weeks out) to get checked because I was convinced I had a UTI. “Oh, you are healing beautifully. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful healing wound. The pain just means it’s getting better.” I hate when they say that, but it did turn out to be true. You know what they say, things get worse before they get better. It’s always darkest before the dawn.

Speaking of postpartum visits, real quick, I know I have said this before but it deserves to be repeated, IT IS INSANITY THAT ALL WE GET AS POSTPARTUM MOMS IS ONE VISIT 6 WEEKS OUT. Totally disgraceful. We should be on a new mom check up schedule just like babies. No matter how many times you go through it. We should be checked both body and mind at regular intervals the ENTIRE FIRST YEAR JUST LIKE THE BABY.

My head and my heart were healing right along with my body too. I felt full, complete, with a side order of Mom guilt once and a while. Everyone was sleeping a bit more regularly. Zach and I seemed a little more connected. I was better hydrated, but, let’s be real, still depleted.

Something about Christmas time. It makes everything feel a little more magical.

Stay tuned for “4th Trimester, 4th Time – Winter.”