Zero Dark Thirty: The first eight weeks
The author, pictured with her first child, eight weeks into motherhood.
Question: What happens between birth and your first postpartum appointment?
Short answer: A LOT.
It’s May 2014. I’m on my way to my obstetrician’s office for my first “check in” appointment, eight weeks aftering giving birth to my first child. The journey to this appointment was frantic and fraught. Not only was I literally pulled over for driving above the speed limit, I was unraveling inside.
Let’s back up a bit.
I hadn’t slept for more than three hours since my daughter was born eight weeks earlier. Since becoming a mom, I’d heard every one of her squeaks and grunts. It was like a constant reminder. “Hey mom, you ready? Don’t enter that REM cycle, cause I’m gonna NEED YOU SOON!” What I didn’t know was that it would be months before I got eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. I was like those unassuming golden ticket winners in “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” entering a progressively shorter and narrower hallway, only to find yourself trapped.
The drive to my OB’s office (and the traffic stop) were punctuated by my baby’s blaring cries. After weeks of trying to keep this “willful” (let’s be honest, “colicky”) baby fed and soothed, every one of her cries echoed in my ears. Spoiler alert: she is now a joyful, empathetic and rule-following seven-year-old. It does get better. But every one of those early postpartum days felt like an eternity.
After parking and schlepping ourselves up and down various escalators and elevators, we made it to the waiting room. It was packed. My OB was a smart, direct, no-nonsense woman, sought after for her years of experience. Face time was brief. I anxiously looked at my daughter, the ticking time bomb. When would she want to eat again? When would she fuss? Why were all the other babies so chill?
15 minutes go by. The nurse finally lets me into an examining room. She takes my blood pressure, checks my weight, breasts and belly. She asks, “what are you doing for birth control?” I stare incredulously. “Raising an infant is birth control,” I think. She proceeds, “We have some options for IUDs. This one lasts for up to 5 years and can be removed at any time.” Wanting this conversation to be over so I can to attend to the ticking time bomb, I nod my head and say, “yeah that’s fine.”
Then she pauses and asks me, “So how are you doing?” For a moment, she looks like a parent in a sitcom, peering over her bifocal glasses, expecting a heart-to-heart.
“Fine” my throat gets tight.
Did I have the capacity to answer differently? Did she have the capacity to hear my real answer?
Her question felt like one of 13 items on her checklist. What I really want to say is “it doesn’t matter, it’s too late, I’ve been through hell these past eight weeks.” Instead I muster a strained grin, shrug my shoulders and pretend to start reading the wall poster about breastfeeding.
She smiles, satisfied, and says, “Okay! I’ll be back in a few minutes to put in your IUD.”
In a city known for its world-class doctors, I felt that no one really knew how I was doing. I was exhausted. Anxious. And breastfeeding was literally sucking the life out of me. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that the first postpartum visit should happen no later than 12 weeks after birth it should “include a full assessment of physical, social, and psychological well-being, including the following domains: mood and emotional well-being; infant care and feeding; sexuality, contraception, and birth spacing; sleep and fatigue; physical recovery from birth; chronic disease management; and health maintenance.”
Let’s be clear: I don’t resent my OB or the nurses. Their job is to focus on a healthy baby and healthy birthing person. But as the spotlight shifts to the baby after birth, the birthing person can be left in the shadows.
A pregnant person is seen as a shiny lollipop. People fawn. You’re glowing! How are you feeling? The moment you give birth, the energy shifts. A new human has entered the world. It is your responsibility to attend to this baby, AT ALL COSTS. It’s hard not to feel like the crumpled up candy wrapper. In the US, there can be significant drop-off in support for parents during the “fourth trimester.”
When a baby is born, a new parent is born. People who’ve just had a baby deserve better, more continous physical, emotional and educational support. Birthing people and expectant parents, please consider working with a postpartum doula to add to your layers of support.
Who can you add to your prenatal and postpartum village?
About the Author: Kathleen Stern is a certified labor, postpartum and infant care doula and founder of Boston Area Doulas. Kathleen believes in the power of support, connection, increasing access to resources and increasing one’s confidence in parenthood. She lives in Boston with her two girls and husband.
