Day 2: {Writer Girl} Being Honest

"And when you can't write? When nothing comes? Those

unproductive seasons are times of storing. I replenish by reading,

reading, reading. You have to allow ideas to fill your reservoir before

they are ready to spill over. A writer has to reflect the totality of life,

not just the high points"

-Luci Shaw, Breath for the Bones

Yesterday I wrote about a really dark patch in my life, a time when I was feeling particularly negative about parenting, about life in general, but I was being cryptic about my experience. I wasn't sure I could write about it. The experience felt taboo to share, then I read this amazing article  that freed me from that censor I placed on myself.

Our society (and in turn we as individuals) places such high demands on a new mother-you are supposed to immediately fall in love with your baby, you are supposed to be utterly smitten by this little baby that is yours, you are supposed to love breastfeeding, you cannot love anything more than being there for your baby, not even work that you were passionate about before the little one was born. And with that setting of standards, so many of us fall. Yes, ideally I would love to be there for my baby, tend to her and love her in the best of ways I can imagine but life comes in the way you know.

Studies suggest that 30-75% of women experience baby blues on the third or fourth day after the birth of their baby. 10-15% of women hopelessly plunge into full blown post partum depression within 3 to 6 months after becoming a new mother. And yet we hide this painful sense of feeling separate, we let others tell us that it is abnormal to feel anything but love, connection and togetherness.

Anyway, for me, all was going well untill I got pregnant again, my breasts began to get sore and tender and it was anything but pleasurable to breastfeed my then one year old. We were in a place of transition in our lives then and she wanted to comfort feed more often. I was feeling intense hormonal upheaval (only after this month did i know why, that i was pregnant even). It was a teeth gritting experience. Every time she wanted to breastfeed, I cried. I knew in my heart that just my anger, frustration and pain was not enough to get her to stop. Why? because I was being adamant, angry and stubborn about the way I was trying to get her to stop. It wasn't working. What you resist persists. I would try and beg her to stop, I would tell her "No, Anika! Mamma is in pain and cant feed you" she was one year old, did i really expect her to understand and empathize?

I was breastfeeding her through this time, through tears, frustration and pain. I knew she needed it, for both comfort and nutrition. I continue breastfeeding her through it all despite what another part of me was saying. And no I was not being a martyr, it was just something I did for my daughter who I love immensely. And four months down the lane she stopped one night, just. like. that. While breastfeeding does not invoke that warm fuzzy feeling for me, I do it, it teaches me to look beyond what is comfortable for me, it teaches me to look at others and not just myself and my needs, it helps me lean in and embrace parenthood and all the joys and pain it comes with.It allows me most of all to be honest with myself, to live out my whole true self, the totality of me and not just the cuddly, cute, nice parts.

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"Writer Girl: 42 Days of Exercises to Deepen Your Faith in Your Ability and Your Purpose for Writing" by Robin Norgren  is a wonderful book to begin to trust in my ability to write and to uncover my purpose for writing. I am going to do this. Yes, For 42 days. 

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