I often wonder if it is draining for a pessimist to be around an optimist; are they constantly feeling like they have to drag the other against their will to see the pessimistic point of view? Does the pessimist become emotionally exhausted from exposure to the endless, hopeful positivity of the optimist? Or is it just the other way around?
My darling, wonderful, amazing husband is a hopeless pessimist, always seeming to see the worst in most situations, without realising he is doing just that. It's like it is in his genes, through to his core, his ability (disability?) to find flaws in everything without even realising he is doing so. Maybe not flaws, that's not the right term.....what's the opposite of seeing the silver lining? He sees the looming, blackness of the cloud itself, and often can't see how things will ever get better. But he doesn't become depressed, just pessimistic.
Me? I'm a sunshine and lollipops kind of girl. As much as it may have been bred into Greg to expect the worst and natural sway towards feeling disappointed in situations, my parents groomed us to always expect the best, to see the light at the end of the tunnel and be appreciative of all opportunities. And at times I have found the difference between the two of us quite trying. It can be exhausting living with a pessimist who always seems to be 'ho-hum' about the world when all you see is blessings and miracles. But I remind myself that we compliment each other and that together we have faced and survived many different situations, despite our differing outlooks.
When we became pregnant with Ava, people took great joy in telling us we were screwed! That we couldn't be lucky enough to have two 'easy' babies in a row, that we'd be in for a really rough time, due to how easily we adjusted to parenting with Lucy. Of course, Greg was well and truly on board with that perspective, but I raged against the machine. I chose to believe that if our first born child was placid, well behaved and a general positive experience for all, our second child could be too. I chose not to be afraid, not to be pessimistic and I chose to expect the best case scenario.
My mum is all about positive thinking, and putting out to the universe what you expect to receive, and even though I give her grief about her mumbo jumbo (I believe her theories are somewhat flawed), I find myself focusing on what I want in life, rather than focusing on what I don't want. Now, don't judge me, but I heard Oprah once say: "worrying is like praying for what you DON'T want to happen"..... Makes sense to me.
When I approached Ava's birth with a positive attitude and experienced a not so positive outcome, my sunshine and lollipops perspective took a swift kick to the balls. I was left feeling very guilty and awful about the lack of hormonal response I had towards my beautiful daughter, see my blog for a long-winded explanation: http://waitingforthebellylaugh.blogspot.com.au/2013/12/this-scene-is-one-of-horror-movies.html
Due to work circumstances, Greg had to return to work (part time) when Ava was only 8 days old, and on the 10th day, I had both the girls home with me first the first time without him (Lucy had been in daycare previously). When he arrived home that night, he received a call from someone asking him if he could please work with them the following day, and it was all I needed to tip me over the edge. The thought of having the girls on my own for the second day, when he had previously planned to be at home, sent me first into a rage, quickly followed by a torrent of tears.
I was crying because I felt scared of having to look after the girls on my own again. Worried that Lucy would need something that I couldn't give her if I was looking after Ava. Worried that Ava would cry all day long and I'd have to ignore Lucy for most of the day, abandoning her to the 'TV babysitter'. Worried that I wouldn't be able to catch up on any sleep at all. And I was then crying because I felt like I should be able to do all of these things and feel okay. I was crying because I didn't want to do the next YEAR of maternity leave with this anxiety, yet I couldn't see how it was going to become any easier. And then I was crying because I wasn't coping, and I haven't ever been good at asking for help. I was embarrassed that this was so hard for me. That I was not taking to two children as easily as I took to adjusting to one. And THEN I was crying because I couldn't stop crying and that was scary!
I continued crying for 24 hours. It was a proper melt down that scared both myself and Greg, and probably alarmed Lucy somewhat too. I remember crying at dinner the following night (that's right, I was STILL crying the following evening), trying to verbalise (not very well) to Greg how I was feeling, and trying unsuccessfully to pull myself together for the hundredth time. It was one of the darkest days of my parenting life.
I wasn't the only one crying. All I wanted to do was bond with Ava, and the harder I tried to self-create that bond I felt was missing, the harder it became to reach her. Ava cried and cried. All the time. She slept, but only on me, and she cried. And I found it harder and harder to feel like I was meeting all of her needs. I wondered if she knew I didn't have that overwhelming glow as her mother, and rather was walking around a frazzled zombie, always anxious that she would wake and start crying again....and I wouldn't be able to soothe her.
The day after my 24hr meltdown, we met with Rachel Gately, the amazing photographer I had per-booked to capture Ava's tiny newborn-ness. Less that 12 hours after my hysterical crying spell ended, I was required to play serene mother for a (lovely) stranger and smile for the photos I wanted so badly. I was feeling extremely anxious that I wouldn't be able to get Ava to sleep for the session. And I felt like a fraud, trying to hold it together in fear of losing my shit again and not being able to stop.
As Rachel tried to get some pictures with Greg and Ava together, Ava began to cry so he handed her to me. She calmed. I handed her back, Rachel snapped a few more quick ones before Ava cracked it again, and again Greg gave her to me and she calmed. And Rachel then said something to me which helped me shed some of the baggage I had been weighing myself down with since Ava's birth. She said "you have a beautiful bond with your daughter, look how much she already takes comfort from you, that's so special!"
And again, for the second time in two weeks, time stood still and I looked around with fresh eyes. The eyes of someone who saw, for the first time, saw the situation as it actually was. This was not a baby who was feeling unloved by a mother who wasn't 'glowing'. Instead, this was a newborn baby who was learning to live in a world very different to the one they were used to, and her mother was utterly exhausted from trying to be a superwoman when all she needed to be was herself. Not to mention, the physical fatigue after an intense delivery and two weeks of averaging three hours of sleep a night.
Having someone who knew nothing of my struggles point out the beauty of my relationship that I had been too distracted to see, was all it took to settle me that day. I realised that Ava relied on me no different than Lucy had. Ava trusted me as her mum and didn't know, nor care or my insecurities. She simply loved me and wasn't at all affected by any of the crap I was going through.
It was that day that I realised my normal silver-lining sight had up and left the house. My normal ability to see past the current hardship seemed to have been disabled. That whole saying about everything looking better in the morning doesn't apply when you are not sleeping.....for there is no morning if you haven't slept. Things were at a scary low for me, and I couldn't see how them becoming any easier any time soon.
People would say to me, 'she's a newborn, it will get better with time' and 'you will get used to juggling the needs of two kids, soon it will be easier' and I disregarded their rubbish advice with a grain of salt. All I could see was me crying everyday for the rest of my life, Ava crying endlessly and poor Lucy being neglected all day long as I walked kms around our house trying to get Ava to settle. Woe is me, or in more realistic language, this is shit and I am scared. I had become the pessimist.
And magically, without me to be all sunshine and lollipops, Greg took on responsibility for seeing the positive side of life. He started making comments like 'sweetie, you're being too hard on yourself, you are doing a great job and it will get better' and 'you go and have a sleep, I'll get you up when Ava needs you, she'll be fine with me'. My favourite pessimist had become an 'everything will be okay' person, as I swung heavily into groundhog days and endless tears.
Life's circumstances can make or break you. Most of us learn lessons that we can use for the rest of our lives. The first two weeks of Ava's life taught me several things about myself:
- I expect too much from myself during difficult times
- I don't like it when I feel like I am not achieving what I should
- I need to sleep whenever I can, because I become very pessimistic without it.
- I need to give myself a break, I'm often doing better than I realise.
This photo is of Ava and I having a cuddle after the photo shoot that day, both feeling a brief sense of calm before the next emotional hurricane arrived. But that's a story for another day....
Ciao for now,
LG - Life's Good!
P.S Rachel, if you read this, I want to thank you for your words that flooded relief into my soul. I bet you didn't even know. xo
P.P.S If you want to check out the amazing work Rachel does, the blog pics of Ava and Lucy can be found at http://rachelgatelyphotography.com.au/?p=9059
