I used to imagine the 3 month maternity leave would be the best me-time. Literally, i imagined my baby sleeping quietly beside me while I am working on my computer, completing the laundry list of works and modules I've planned to do or reading my umpteenth book while excitedly waiting for the next book to read. Even during the last day in the office before I got warded, I was telling myself what harm would it do to pop in the office for a while during maternity leave for me to finish off some work. And started wondering whether the security officers would allow people in confinement (read: wearing kain batik with pilis on the forehead) enter the building.
In reality, however, it is totally the opposite.
The first couple of weeks after leaving the hospital was the worst. Never did I imagine that I would be in a poor state of health. I freaked out when I learnt that the doctor only provided pain killer for 4 days only!
The first two weeks, I was walking with a hunched back as I was still recovering from the C-sect operation. I walked very slow, like the sloth in Zootopia. I couldn't sit up on my own after laying down, and always needed someone to hold on to and help me up. I couldn't even lie on my side as the stitches would ache and it felt like my entire womb and all my stomach's content has fallen to the side. I couldn't even handle myself, what more to catter to a newborn baby that would cry every two hours.
I always had dreams to have many children. During the pregnancy, Farid and I were already planning on our second baby. But during that two weeks post natal, as I lay on the bed alone at night while the rest of the household has gone to sleep, I find myself saying, no way will I get pregnant for the second baby anytime in the near future! That was how poor my health and mental condition was at that time.
I would cry to myself even to the idea that Farid will be going back to work. And as much as I could, I persuaded him to prolong his leave. I needed him to help me through those difficult times. When finally he had to go back to work, I cried again. I was so fragile. I was continuously consoling and motivating myself that everything would be ok. Even Farid had a jaulah during that weekend. He asked me if it is ok for him to go. I looked at him and started crying. The next day I texted him apologizing for being so weak and said yes, he can go. That night as we sat together for dinner, he asked again if it was really ok for him to go. I cried. Again. After that, he cancelled his participation. I felt bad that he couldn't go, but relieved that he would be with me to handle the baby together.
I also found myself worrying over so many things that my head would hurt. Who will take care of my baby when I go back to work? How will I know if they are treating my baby well? Will they turn on bad music instead of nasyids and recitation of the quran? How much quality time can I spend with my baby? Should I quit my job instead and be a full-time mom? What will he grow up to be? Will I be able to teach him well? What if I don't? When should I start saving money for his future education? And 1001 more questions.. logical but wrong timing questions. I had to tell myself many times to let go and worry only when the time comes. I had to remind myself that I have no strength and power over my own baby; so I should put my trust in Allah that He will take care of my baby.
One thing I learned during these two stressful weeks was: post-partum depression is real! I am lucky to be surrounded by my family; husband, parents, siblings.. yet the pressure was still there. Imagine those who had to go through confinements on their own!
After the two weeks, I started regaining strength. And alongside a better and healthier body, my mind became calmer. Yet, it was still far from the me-time I had anticipated earlier on.
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