I'm No Captain America

Whenever it's Cecily's turn to pray, she asks God to "make JD not cry at night" and to "help Mommy with her depression." For some people, it would maybe break their hearts a little to hear such a plea from their child, but for me? I appreciate all the help I can get. 

At dinner last night, I tried to guide a conversation about the true meaning of Easter. I talked about our imperfections and the need for an Atonement. I asked the girls if they thought my postpartum depression was gone, and their father responded immediately with a "no."  I have not asked him yet why he responded so quickly with that answer, but frankly? It upset me.  I thought I'd been doing so well! And, in all honesty, it's never obvious when it goes. Just, that it's gone when it's gone. And I had hoped, desperately, that it had gone...

Anyone with anxiety or depression can tell you about "triggers."  They are exactly as they sound: things that set someone off. They're like pet peeves times a million. If your thing is road rage, then imagine that, when someone cuts you off, you don't just get upset, but there is a literal reaction in every part of your being. You lose all ability to be rational, your heart rate increases, your stomach twists into infinite, gut-wrenching knots, you feel your face flush as your blood pressure increases.  You almost feel like some psychological version of an emotional/mental Incredible Hulk. 

My trigger is a when a younger baby (usually my own) will not submit to training/coercion of sleeping well. Part of this stems from a need I (apparently) have (always) had to be in control. Part of this stems from some PTSD from my 1st child's incomparably horrendous colic. Part of it comes from a somewhat genetically-predisposed chemical imbalance and the postpartum consequences. And part of it comes from being so gosh-danged sleep-deprived. 

And NONE of my babies - not a one - zip; zero; zilch; nada; none of them have been "naturally" good sleepers. I have had to "help" them all learn to sleep and do so, well. It's like God literally hands me my "triggers" in the form of little swaddled bundles of chaos.

A few weeks ago, I posted a facebook status about my frustration with people who try to remind me to enjoy this time.  Many agreed with me. But there were a couple (and I am in no way criticizing these people) who talked about loving this phase. I am convinced we are just wired in totally different ways.  But at the same time, hearing people mention how they cherish these early months just made me feel like a horrible person; like, somehow my wiring is just... crap. Like I'm some sort of lemon. 

In General Conference yesterday, there was a talk about those who are without guile and just innately good and how we all can work towards such characteristics. My husband and I talked a little bit about people who are just "good" and how it has got to be, in large part, inherent. They just... ARE. And the rest of us just have to work our butts off to even kind of be.

I wonder about the superiority of these people - the ones without guile. The ones who, despite averaging 2 hours of sleep at night, can still go into their baby with patience and gentility, and feed him for the 8th time that night, rocking him and cooing at him with overabundant love, even though it's the ungodly hour of 3 am.  Are they just better people than me? Do they just deserve mountains of credit for something that's not at all difficult for them? For something that just... IS?

My favorite superhero is Captain  America. I think it bugs Dave because he prefers the somewhat troubled souls of Spider-Man and Batman. But my reason for it is because of his integrity; he is just, stripped down to the core, a good person. He always does the right thing and we won't get those movie sequels about him where he travels some dark and troubled soul-searching path that's riddled with his mistakes. I admire that in him, and also in actual people.

When I was at BYU and I had just entered the MDT program, I quickly became unwilling to answer the "what's your major?" question. I discovered that MDT majors were not particularly well-liked. My roommates told me that we were easy to spot.  We were hyperactive, and a lot of us acted like we were something special. Now I, of course, loved my peers in college and know that a great number of them are phenomenal human beings with incredible talent. But the talent part was something some of them acted as if it somehow set them apart; like some sort of elitist badge. The thing is, everyone in the world is talented. Not everyone can showcase their talent on a stage. Being born inherently capable of something is one thing; but, I feel like it's when someone overcomes something they are NOT inherently good at that is a greater definition of their character. What's more impressive? The girl who can belt a high C and has been doing it since she came out of the womb? Or the monotone kid with no predisposition for music who can get up and overcome social anxiety and stage fright to sing a hymn in church simply because she was asked to?

JD is hardcore teething right now. This means that even though I have done everything I can to provide him an ideal sleep environment, allowed him to guide me according to his unique sleep needs, taught him the ability to fall asleep independently, and I never allow him to get overtired, he is STILL sleeping horribly at night. But, to be completely honest, even when he's not teething, the kid gives me rough nights. I have read every book and method out there on all ends of every spectrum, and nothing has worked. 

Last night he woke at 12:30, and I nursed him. He then spent the next 2 hours crying and/or talking to himself. 

Remember that part about my trigger? Imagine that thing I said about what happens with a trigger, but it happens at 1 am after only an hour and a 1/2 of sleep. And remember that part about me thinking some people are inherently good? I don't think I'm one of them. I have a strong DESIRE to be good, and I try to make good choices, but I am not at all naturally without guile. I'm feisty and stubborn and judgmental. And those traits, mixed in with some postpartum depression, a dash of triggers, and a pinch of sleep deprivation? I am not great in those middle of the night moments. A lot of the time, I go into his room frustrated, and just attach him to nurse, desperately hoping he dozes off as quickly as possible. A lot of the time, I go in, pick him up somewhat briskly and pat him on the back with maybe a little too much force, trying to coerce a possible burp without very much sympathy. A lot of the time, I don't go in at all as his cries escalate, and I call him not-very-nice-names under my breath. 

Last night, I found myself apologizing to God for just being an overall sucky person. I wish I loved all of this. I wish it was just part of my nature to be patient at the worst times. I wish I didn't have such an obsession with things working out in life the way they do on paper. 

I looked at the clock: 

2:47 AM

He'd been struggling on and off for over 2 hours. 

I'd gone in at least 7 or 8 times. 

I. Was. Exhausted. 

I took a deep breath as I entered his room for the umpteenth time. I picked him up and walked over to my rocking chair, holding him until I knew he was asleep enough to sleep through whatever was bugging him. During that seeming eternity while holding his heavy dead weight and sitting in my rickety hard chair, there were multiple times I had to talk myself down from major PPD-induced frustration. But I did it. And it was hard. And, despite my love for him, I did not love sitting up awake in that hard chair versus sleeping snugly in my soft bed. 

But once I was back in my room, I had to ask myself (now that I was wide awake), what if being patient at those times just came naturally to me? What if I could get up every night with my child as if it were nothing, relishing in those moments? 

Would I be as proud of myself as I was at that moment, having had a blip in my timeline where I overcame something that is just not easy for me? 

I work really hard on my musical talents, but it also is something that I was somewhat born with (and into). And I am really proud of my talent. And I LOVE success and recognition when it comes to my musical talent.  But I can't take all of the credit for it.  My mom worked with her kids constantly.  That is through no credit of my own.  And God.  He has a heckuvalot to do with my specific skill set.  So, the idea of walking around campus with my head held high like I was significantly amazing made no sense to me.  Because even though I had made it into a program that took a statistically low percentage of those who auditioned, I couldn't really take all of the credit.  AND - people all over that campus were making it into programs of their own.  It's a little difficult to showcase a scientific brain.  Doesn't make it any less impressive.  Not going to lie, though.  I do love good praise.  However, when I succeed musically, how impressive is it, really?  Its not, necessarily, "hard."

But in the dark hours of the night, I had to fight an epic battle. I'm no Captain America, and the war with myself and my predispositions as well as my personal challenges and weaknesses will undoubtedly last my entire life. But, despite multiple losses throughout the battle, I still won it. And I don't know if I would have been as proud of myself if there hadn't been a battle in the first place.

But, I'm going to go sing a song now.  Because I can.