Part one - The Story of Marie; The Postpartum Mom

It’s day 363 postpartum.

One year of motherhood. One year of breastfeeding. One year since her body stopped belonging only to her.

And this morning, her period starts. It is not the first time but might be the first time she woke up with the hormonal rage.

Marie cannot fully explain what is happening inside her body today, but she is going to try.

At 8:44 a.m., she is already yelling at “the animule.”

That cat has done it again. Pooped on the floor. Not just anywhere — in the hallway. The hallway where both the cat AND the baby crawled through it moments earlier.

“Get in your room,” she snaps while dragging paper towels across the floor “…and stop crying.” “I cannot believe you Sh!t in the hall again.”

Jacob sits in the livingroom eating silently. The silence is louder than if he would just yell at her. Marie feels guilty. The baby hears the way she is talking to the cats. What if he grows up and yells at cats? Also the cat does not deserve this version of her. But why does everything always seem to happen while they are trying to leave?

They get out of the house. It is now 9:04 a.m. Jacob silently buckles the baby into the car seat. Marie puts the diaper bag in the car and then gets in the driver seat.

“Where’s his pacifier?” he gently asks.

“I don’t know,” she answers sharply without turning around.

He pauses. He knows what that tone means. It means it is not in the car. It means she is not getting out of the car. It means he needs go back inside and find one.

Without another word, he walks back into the house.

Marie stares out the windshield and starts wiping tears before they can fully fall.

Today is a bad day and it is just 9:05 a.m.

The baby has already had breast milk, toast, and sweet potatoes. Jacob had coffee and a Pop-Tart. Marie — the breastfeeding, sleep-deprived, hormonal mother — has had nothing. No water. No food. Not even enough time to brush her hair before sitting in the driver seat.

Jacob gets back in the car with the pacifier.

They make it to church. They are not late. They get their preferred seats. Jacob keeps holding the baby until after the first song. By then he is reaching for Marie and will not keep quiet about his preference for mom.

Father Phil starts speaking, but Marie barely hears him. Her mind is louder.

Yeah sure, we went to bed at the same time.

But I woke up three times to breastfeed him.

I woke up when the baby woke up.

I changed his diaper at 3 am and 7 am.

I undressed him.

I used the bathroom while he cried next to me.

I picked his breakfast. Heated it. Fed him. Entertained him while he ate.

I cleaned poop off the floor.

I grabbed the Swiffer. I cleaned the hallway.

And what did you do?

She glances sideways at Jacob sitting calmly beside her.

Four months ago, they talked about this exact thing.

Look I know that you need one hour to get ready,

but you do not think about adding extra time so I can also get ready!

Her body is still feeding another human being.

Her hormones still pull her toward vigilance before dawn.

Her nervous system has not fully rested in almost a year.

And sometimes postpartum resentment is not about anger at all.

Sometimes it is grief over how invisible this kind of exhaustion can feel.

READ Part two - Jacob’s side of the story: the 40 year old dad.