Over, Under, Appropriately Hyped: Postpartum Edition

I gave up TikTok for Lent and haven't been back, but last time I was in the world of BookTok there was a trend of holding up a book and simply saying whether you thought it was under-hyped, over-hyped, or appropriately hyped. I've been thinking about that a lot in terms of postpartum experiences, so let's play Under-, Over-, or Appropriately Hyped: Postpartum Edition.

Breastfeeding, General: Appropriately Hyped
People said that breastfeeding was really challenging, but magical. I would concur...although it is way more challenging than I could have imagined. My friend Caitlyn told me that she read a study saying that a week of breastfeeding is the energy equivalent of working a sixty-hour work week.



Breastfeeding, Nipple Pain: Under-Hyped
People said that your nipples could get sore at first, but no one told me that for days I'd literally be biting a rolled up rag like a Civil War soldier having surgery without anesthesia every time Elle latched.

First Postpartum Poop: Over-Hyped
Everyone made this out to be terrifying, but in my case, it was not. I think it's probably because I only had a first degree tear, I took all the stool softeners offered me, I elevated my feet when I went, and I had braced myself for the experience to be an ordeal.

Sleeplessness: Appropriately Hyped
People say the lack of sleep is bad, and...it is XD There was one night that I was staring at the clock and I couldn't even get my eyes to focus. It was 44:4444 o'lock. Fortunately Gabe is a one-in-a-million partner and takes the first night shift (like 10pm–2am) all by himself so that I can get sleep at least at the beginning.

Postpartum Peeing: Under-Hyped
The first postpartum poop is discussed a lot, but why are y'all not talking how it BURNS TO PEE every time, even three weeks in?! This is way worse than pooping. Yeah, I tried the peri bottle trick of spraying while you pee, and IT STILL HURTS. The only time it doesn't hurt is if I pee in the shower, so...there's that lovely little tip for anyone currently pregnant.

Breastfeeding Hunger: Over-Hyped
I have a theory about why I haven't experienced the notorious ravenousness that comes with breastfeeding: I've been stuffing my face every since I got back from the hospital XD I don't think I've even given myself a shot at being ravenous.

Postpartum Hormones: Under-to-Appropriately Hyped
I was told that I would cry a lot and that there would be moments where I would loathe my husband. Days 6–10 were the most emotional for me (might do a post on all the things that made me cry during that span 😂), but I haven't LOATHED Gabe yet. There have been a handful of times when I was really annoyed at him, but I was able to acknowledge that they were hormonal feelings and didn't make real sense.

First Postpartum Nap: Under-Hyped
We came home with Elle on a Wednesday night, "slept" that night, and Mom came over the next day to help us settle. That afternoon, I took a two-hour nap.

Oh. My. Gosh.

When Gabe woke me up because Elle needed to nurse...for the first five seconds, I had no identity. I had been called back from a region of such deep Nothingness that I genuinely could not have told you my own name or species. It was like being raised from the actual dead. I've never slept that deeply in my life, and probably never will again.

Secret Moms' Club: Under-Hyped
Ever since I had Elle, mom friends have been checking in on me and encouraging me and it's been the most beautiful and humbling thing. I had no idea that all these women my age were in the trenches together and that having a baby would initiate me into such a special pocket of my village. Y'all are such a bright light in what can sometimes be a dark and lonely season.

I would say that overall, postpartum comes out to be appropriately hyped...but also under-hyped. And it's no one's fault, I just didn't understand what people were telling me. It's kind of like marriage: everyone tells you that it's really hard, and you're like, "Okay, got it, I hear you, it's really hard," but then you DO it and you're like, "Oh JEEZUS, it's like HARD hard, in ways I didn't even have categories for before."

Since everyone was right about postpartum and the newborn stage being tough, I will hold out hope that they're also right in that it doesn't last forever, and that it will be worth it ;)

~Stephanie

Birth Blog 4/4: After

I don't know when I took the eye mask off, but suddenly Baby Elle was on my chest and I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe I had done it. I couldn't believe it was over. I couldn't believe she was real.*

Gabe was right next to me, crying joyful tears.

After a few minuets of sheer...awe, I felt some more contractions, but more of the period cramp variety, if I remember correctly.

"Here comes the placenta," the doctor said, and I remember being like Oh, right.

I did have to push it out, but it was like one or two pushes. Incredibly minimal. You know what wasn't minimal though?

The placenta XD That thing looks like a heart crossed with a liver. It is very much an entire organ that my body grew for Elle. And it was connected to Elle by the umbilical cord.

Someone (the doctor? Gabe? Me?) reminded everyone that I wanted delayed cord clamping.

"Until it turns white or stops pulsing," I said. I don't know/remember if that was respected, but I don't have a reason to think it wasn't.

When it was time, the doctor asked if Gabe wanted to cut the cord. This was something that had actually been up in the air for months. We'd talked about it, but Gabe wasn't sure. However, in the moment, he said that yes, he wanted to, so when the time came, Gabe did the cutting.

At some point, the doctor asked if I wanted him to see if I tore. I said yes. He looked and said it was a first degree tear, the smallest kind. He asked if I wanted stitches, I asked for pros and cons and he gave them to me (something like if it heals on its own, it'll always be a little fragile, whereas stitches would virtually repair the tear). I consented and got three stitches.

During all of this, time was such a fluid, elusive concept. I can't tell you how long anything took or how long passed between things. I know our skin-to-skin time was uninterrupted for the first hour before they took her (just across the room, with Gabe) to weigh her (6lb 1oz) and measure her length (20in) and stuff.



Oh, this picture reminds me: I had labored in a sports bra, which meant I couldn't just pop it off for complete skin-to-skin or breastfeeding because of all the IV bullcrap in my arm. Pregnant ladies: labor in a bra that you can easily remove or pull down, cuz I almost had Gabe or Cass cut this off with a knife until one of the nurses intervened and helped me get the bra off around the IV cords.

Eventually, a nurse (Kim and Noelle were the labor nurses and they were incredible) asked me if I could or wanted to try to pee. I looked at the clock and was pretty alarmed that I hadn't peed in like seven hours. Very unlike me XD

While the nurse helped me walk to the bathroom, Gabe got his first skin-to-skin time with Elle :) He tells me he cried the entire time. I love that man with every fiber of my being. He is already an incredible father.



I couldn't pee, which wasn't all that surprising since my body had been through a lot and I'm super pee-shy on a good day.

Eventually it was time to move from the delivery room to a recovery room. I think I went basically from the toilet to a wheelchair, and was shaking. Gabe asked if I was cold, and I said maybe, but that I thought it was mostly hormones. Some people get labor shakes; I got post-labor shakes.

I loaded up in the wheelchair and was given Elle. I don't think I stopped smiling for the whole trip to the recovery room. Every staff member we passed said, "Congratulations!" and it made me feel so special and seen :)

Gabe asked me a day or so later if there was anything about the birth experience that I would change. I thought about it, and said no. I stand by that.



As I lay in a hospital bed, I remember thinking, "I don't know if I'd be willing to do it again. That was really intense," but a couple of days later, I checked in with myself and found that I would TOTALLY be willing to do it again. Now, nine days postpartum, I'm actually thinking that the labor experience was super interesting and I love the power of letting my body do its thing. I would not be scared to labor again, but would actually kind of...look forward to it?

Hormones and memories are weird.

Postpartum has honestly felt more annoying than labor (but again, hormones + memories = weird conclusions), but maybe I'll blog about that another time.

Baby Elle is...magical. Perfect. A dream. A promise fulfilled. I'll never get over the goodness of God or the kindness of our village.



~Stephanie

*Like, really really couldn't believe it. Throughout the rest of the evening, I would semi-panic that it was a dream and Baby Elle would be gone and I'd have to do labor all over again for real. Cass asked if I could really dream that much "pain" and I said yeah, absolutely. She asked if there was anything I couldn't do in a dream, and I realized that yes: I've never been able to taste things in my dreams. So I clung to the fact that a nurse had brought me a juice cocktail, and that Mom would be bringing me muffins soon. After I ate the muffins, I would know it was all real.

Birth Blog 3/4: Pushing

- As we prepared for me to push, I told the doctor that I didn't want to push on my back and I didn't want to tear. He told me that pushing on my side was usually an effective position, and that they would put a warm compress on my perineum to help it not tear.

- I agreed to push side-lying. I'd always figured that I would want to push on my hands and knees or on my knees and gripping the headboard, but I found that I didn't. My body actually wanted to be some form of lying down.

- In fact...my body was so...focused? on contractions that it didn't feel like it could do much of anything else, like even hold up my top leg while side lying to give space for a baby to emerge. A nurse pulled out one of the bed's stirrup footrests and I braced my right foot against it. Gabe held my left/top leg up for me. I remember being frustrated because I felt like he wasn't supporting it well enough. I wanted to support my leg ZERO.

- Gabe's back acted up and Cassidy took over holding my leg. She made me feel a lot more stable and I remember telling Gabe to ask her what she was doing and replicate it. (Remember, eye mask. I saw nothing.)

- When it was really really time to push, I told the doctor I wanted to let my uterus do it. He said that he thought I was going to need to add active pushing if I wanted the baby to come out. I told him that I genuinely didn't think I COULD push harder than my uterus was pushing. Like, my uterus was contracting my absolute guts out; I couldn't imagine having anything to add.

- For the record, I still believe that my uterus could have done it on its own, that I could have "breathed out" the baby, BUT here's the thing: I also wanted this to be over XD So I decided to try to push with the contractions, as impossible as that sounded.

- One nurse asked me to take off the eye mask so she could show me something, and I did. She mimed and explained pushing/breathing DOWN with each contraction. All my energy and breath should be driven down and out my body. I replaced the eye mask and pushing began.

- It was...hard. All the animal noises. But it wasn't...painful. It was—even in the moment—interesting. My body was doing its thing. I was helping. It was HARD. I was NOT in control, but I could assist.

- The baby's head began emerging, and I felt the infamous "ring of fire." I thought it would be a ring of fire that the baby moved through, but it turns out if your baby pauses IN the ring to wait for another contraction, the fire stays with you.

- That hurt. For a little bit.

- But then it was all head-head-head-ears-shoulders-WHOLE BODY BLOOPED OUT. After twenty minutes of me pushing, Gabrielle Ember was born at 7:21pm on May 5.



- And...I actually—and this is wild to me because I deliberately tried to record EVERYTHING in my mind—can't remember if it stopped hurting?

- But she was suddenly on my chest, all goopy and still attached to me with the umbilical cord.

- "That was inside of me," I said, awed. Everyone chuckled.

- And everything else is After.

~ Stephanie

Birth Blog 2/4: Active Labor

Memories of active labor are dim and dreamlike. Here's what I can tell you:

- Room was too bright and I asked for the eye mask from my hospital bag.

- I would wear the eye mask for the end of early labor, all of active labor, and all of pushing. In the movie adaptation of my labor, the eye mask will be billed and compensated just below the actor playing me.

- I labored on the bed on a hospital yoga ball: on my knees, forearms on the ball, rocking back and forth. Gabe rolled the ball with me and kept it from rolling off the end of the bed.

- Cassidy started filling the room's labor pool. It seemed like the hospital staff didn't know when or how to do it? There was discussion between Gabe and Cass about how to get the temperature right or how to fill it or something, and Cass told me the other day that apparently I said to her and Gabe, "Stop talking about the tub." I don't remember 😂 

- Laboring in the tub felt better...but it was still bad. Really intense. Really, really intense. The contractions started to scare me. I started to dread each one. I told Gabe I was scared, and he continued to talk to me and tell me that my body was doing exactly what it was supposed to do, to listen to my body, to surrender and breathe, that I was doing an amazing job, that I was strong, that God designed my body for this.

- I asked for water. I needed it through a straw. Funnily enough, Mom had given me a little portable straw in a keychain for Christmas, so Gabe whipped that out and stuck it in my water bottle. But pretty soon I was drinking ice water from a hospital cup. I would just say, "Water" and Gabe or Cassidy would stick a straw in front of my eye-masked face and I'd sip.

- My moaning and humming were crazy loud and desperate sounding. I was surprised that I didn't care who heard me.

- I know I said I couldn't do it anymore a few (quite a few?) times. Gabe assured me that I could.

- The hospital staff did a ton of SUPER annoying things to me (taking the baby's vitals via some kind of band wrapped around my stomach, drawing my blood?!), some of which required me to be out of the tub, which I did NOT want to do, so everyone figured out how to get me out of the water enough to make it work. I hiked my right leg up and put it on the rim of the tub and fully leaned over the side while Gabe supported my whole body. I remember the immense relief I felt when I could just flop all my weight back and have him take it.

The anesthesiologist stopped by to talk about epidurals, but we (Gabe, maybe?) asked him to come back later, basically as a stalling tactic because we knew we didn't want that. He did not come back XD

- I was surprised at how easy it was for me to stay in my "labor flow." Prep classes talked about how if a laboring woman is disturbed (startled, embarrassed, asked to make rational choices when she needs to be all up in her instincts) it can slow or reverse labor progress. Well, that did not happen to me. I was in my labor flow and would not be coming out.

- I remember the transition into proper active labor. Instead of intense period cramps, a contraction actually felt like me and my uterus were throwing up in unison. You know the feeling of throwing up, that involuntary heaving pressure in your chest and throat? That happened to me (sans vomit), but it also happened in my lower abdomen. My uterus was trying to throw up a baby.

- At first, those throwing up contractions were every once in a while. Then they were consistently every other contraction. I HATED them. I hate the uncontrollable feeling of throwing up, and having it in my uterus was no different.

- All through this, Gabe was talking to me. He was the voice in my head. I had nothing else. I let him be my thoughts, and I focused on being my body. When he would tell me he loved me, I would feel my heart squeeze and my shoulders relax and the contractions' intensity literally receded like an ocean wave being drawn back into the sea.

- A nurse asked me if I was feeling pressure during contractions, similar to having to poop. I said yes. She asked if the pressure stayed between contractions or if it was only during. It was only during, but the nurse still thought I was close to the pushing stage. She wanted me to get out of the labor tub and into the bed. I remember resisting because I didn't believe I was that close to pushing. I didn't think the baby was really down there. I guess I thought I'd be able to feel her coming down, like toothpaste getting squeezed out of a tube. So far, she felt like she was in the same place and I just had some pressure down there for...some reason. But I got (well, was walked with HEAVY help from Gabe) to the bed.

- I was cold because I was wet. And pantsless (when had I taken my shorts off?). And maybe also getting some labor shakes. They brought me a warm blanket or something.



- Pretty soon, ALL the contractions were the the throwing up kind. No more period cramps. Only CONTRACTING and not contracting. And even the not contracting was, like...intense. All of it was intense, all the time, but a contraction was on another level that took me to another plane of existence.

- I was making ANIMAL sounds. Or really, my body was. I was a helpless passenger in the mech of my body. I could hear myself grunting, groaning, sounding like a gorilla or a boar or something, but I was not choosing to make those sounds. All I could do was choose to keep my jaw and shoulders as relaxed as possible and wait for my uterus to stop throwing up and my mouth to stop bellowing like a beast.

- Eventually the "pressure like you have to poop" wasn't just with contractions, it was all the time. They called in the doctor. Someone (Cass? Gabe? Nurse? Doctor?) said they could see the baby's head. I did not believe them.

- I consented to a cervical check to confirm that it was time to push. I didn't want to push before my body was ready, because I really didn't want to tear. The cervical check was hands down the most painful part of the entire experience. I was not able to keep my moans low in my body, my jaw open, or my shoulders relaxed. I heard myself actually SCREAM.

- But it was time to push.

~Stephanie

Birth Blog 1/4: Early Labor

Water Breaking
My water broke at 6:30 while I was in bed, 36 weeks 6 days pregnant.

I felt a little moisture between my legs, stuck a finger down there to see what was up, and went, "Huh." I mean yeah, there was moisture, but pregnancy has been one type of discharge after another so I didn't think a ton of it at first.

But then I rolled over and it felt like someone had popped a water balloon between my legs.

"Oh."

The bathroom door to my left was shut, meaning that Gabe was in there getting ready for work.

"Gabe." Nothing. "Gabe. Gabe!" He opened the door. "My water broke."

"Are you s—" His gaze dropped to the giant spot on the sheets, the drips making their way down to soak the carpet.

"Yes." I got up and hobbled to the bathroom. When I sat on the toilet, gushes more surged out. It sounded like I was peeing, which I called to Gabe. "That's not pee! That's my water!"

I was not nervous or scared. I hadn't had any signs of early labor or anything, but she didn't feel early to me.

"I guess we're having a baby," I said.

Gabe stared at me. "...yep."

Early Labor


The next few hours were mostly pretty chill.

I texted our doula, Jocelyn, who lives in Florida. She'd been planning to fly up May 18, but on short notice the earliest she could get to NC was 10pm, so Gabe and I decided to switch the plan to virtual care with her, via texting and video chat if need be.

Since I was feeling good and my water (which was continuing to gush out in random bursts as I went about the house) was clear, I felt good about laboring at home—despite what the obgyn on-call nurse seemed to assume. I called the office to let them know what was going on, and the nurse said to go to the hospital if I didn't start contracting within in the next hour. Fortunately after a couple of laps up and down our street, I thought I could feel some tiny baby period cramps and called them contractions.

There were two small scares that morning: 1) I suddenly realized about 7:30 that I couldn't remember the last time the baby had moved. You can imagine the games my head played until she finally nudged me again. 2) Some of the water coming out of me was very slightly pink tinged, so Jocelyn suggested we go to the obgyn and see if everything was good. Some blood is normal, but the way it was very mixed in with the amniotic fluid was questionable.

However, at the 10:30am obgyn appointment, the baby's heartbeat was great, it was so obvious that my water had broken that they didn't even test it, and Dr. D'Angelo seemed shocked and vaguely impressed that I declined a cervical check. As far as I'd learned in birth prep, the baby was gonna come on her own time and at her own pace, so knowing how dilated I was at the time would mean nothing.

We stopped at Biscuitville on the way home and got sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits for ourselves and my best friend Cassidy, who I'd called in. I thought about calling Sarah, my sister, and her kids to come over, knowing that toddlers would be the BEST distraction from uncomfortable-but-non-urgent early labor. However, I wanted to see how things progressed.

At home, between bites of biscuit, Gabe finished packing and loaded the hospital bags into the car while Cassidy and I meal prepped some frozen breakfast burritos that I'd meant to make the week before. It came up in conversation that the red raspberry leaf tea I'd been drinking to prepare my uterus might've worked a little too well, and then it occurred to me that maybe drinking it would speed up my labor too. I started chugging, and uh.

It worked.

The tiny baby contractions moved quickly into full-blown period cramps that were very distracting. Whenever they got so intense that I couldn't talk through them, we would start timing.

At some point, Gabe and Cass got the labor pool ready: an inflatable thing from Target that we set up on the back patio and began filling with the hose, adding boiling water to it to try to get the temperature more comfortable.

There are a couple of characters in the TV show Friends who get pregnant, and we'd saved all those episodes to watch during my early labor to get my mind off things, so we started the first of four episodes while the pool filled and water boiled. Cass and Gabe sat on couches, I sat on a big yoga ball, bouncing and rolling through contractions—which Gabe had started timing with an app. Apparently they were close and consistent enough that the app was telling us to go to the hospital, but I could still talk through them so I felt like we should wait. Well, I insisted we wait.

Two-thirds of the way through the first Friends episode I paused it to go to the bathroom, and when the next contraction hit on the toilet, I realized that they were a LOT worse when I couldn't be on the yoga ball. I finished my business and called Gabe in. I only wanted him during this phase. I moved into our closet (attached to the bathroom) and started laboring on all fours on the floor. When I would drop onto my forearms, my t-shirt rode up and got in and mouth, which pissed me off, so I took it off.

As the contractions got more and more intense, Gabe gently began suggesting we listen to the app (we were on its sixth or seventh nudge to go to the hospital). I resisted.

"I can talk through them," I said, rocking on my hands and knees. "The birth course said to wait until you can't talk through them, and even the in-between time is tough. That's not happening yet."

But it was real uncomfortable XD Through each contraction, I hummed and moaned deep in my throat, careful to keep my sounds low and my jaw and shoulders relaxed. I told Gabe that I either wanted to get in the labor pool or use my labor combs. He brought me the combs, and they made a HUGE difference. I would grip them during contractions and the teeth pressed into my palms, doing something scientific pressure-point-wise.

Around 3:45pm Gabe convinced me that it was time to go to the hospital. I still didn't believe that it was and I was convinced the staff would laugh at me for coming in so early, but I told Gabe that I trusted him and that if he really wanted me to go, we could go.

We got in the car and Cass followed. Laboring in the car was super, super uncomfortable. I don't remember much about the drive, and my memories get dimmer from here on out. I remember Gabe taking a curve in the road too sharply for my taste and me loudly demanding that he NOT do ANYTHING like that AGAIN because it made me feel like I was going to throw up. I also told him to talk to me during contractions. "Talk about how they're not pain, they're power." I was surprised at how breathless I sounded. "Tell me I'm strong and my body was made for this." And he did. "LOUDER" I snapped at one point, because my moaning and humming had escalated. "You've gotta be louder than I am."

We arrived at the hospital and there was some parking drama because I couldn't walk the length of the garage, but I also didn't want Gabe to drop me off and leave me to go park. In the end, that was what happened though, and a security guard (?) wheeled me into the labor and delivery department.

I remember the breeze on my face as he wheeled me felt really nice. The contractions really did not.

The journey to the check-in counter is a blur of fluorescent lights and disembodied voices. Gabe caught up to us as I was checking in with...some female behind a counter. She was asking me questions (we had preregistered at the hospital) and I was answering them with my eyes closed, fists clenching the labor combs for dear life even between contractions, which were like really intense period cramps...I think? I don't remember filing away a different way to describe them.

When Gabe arrived he took over answering questions, and I thanked God for the bazillionth time that I have a husband who loves me and pays attention to me and whom I can trust to speak for me when I can't.

Got to a triage room, was put onto a hospital bed. More disembodied voices, annoying questions. Cassidy caught up with us at this point. I agreed to a cervical check and was told that I was 4cm dilated, and that usually the first four take the longest.

Next, a labor room.

~ Stephanie

This Might Might Be Completely and Utterly a "Me" Problem

As happens a lot, I had a revelation about three quarters of the way through this post, which resulted in a totally unexpected worldview shift. Come along for the journey below 😂

I've been procrastinating a blog topic for a while now because...well, for two reasons. 1) It's a big topic. It's going to require a lot of thinking/processing/wrestling, and I haven't felt like doing that. 2) People are going to have Opinions, and I don't need them. It'd be too harsh to say I don't care about people's opinions, it's just that they won't factor into what I decide to do. In a way it feels misleading to blog about this (especially if I'm going to share the link to Facebook) and also be disinterested in conversation about the topic.

Okay, so what is the topic? My postpartum philosophy/plans.

There are two extremes and a million happy mediums in between. The two extremes: Bounce Back Boss Babe, and Healing Hibernating Hippie.

Bounce Back Boss Babe
You birth your baby and as quickly and seamlessly as possible get back on your feet cooking, cleaning, running errands, and taking your trendily dressed baby with you on light jogs.

- Very appealing from a pride standpoint—people will comment on how you have it all together, you can fake making motherhood look easy
- Required to some degree by American society. Even my company—which I LOVE working for and relies on family culture—only provides two weeks of paid maternity leave.
- What I saw growing up—especially from my dance teachers. They danced until they went into labor, and then sometimes performed in the recital like a week or two postpartum. Talk about #goals...right?

Healing Hibernating Hippie
Postpartum is treated as a sacred transitional time, where the mother is shielded from all strain and responsibility for weeks, fed in a way that prioritizes her healing, and cautioned against hosting visitors.

- Very appealing from a holistic, body-respectful standpoint—the first forty days of postpartum can allegedly make or break your entire experience of new motherhood
- Unquestionably accepted, nearly enforced, in many Eastern and Native American cultures.
- Radically different from anything I've ever seen anyone do. Granted, most women's postpartum experiences are pretty private (another Western thing), so I don't really know their approaches, but I'm guessing they didn't have a team making every single meal or keeping them warm around the clock.

I just started reading a book called The First Forty Days. I registered for it thinking that it was a cookbook on how to nourish a new mother, and it is...but around the first 55% is actually more philosophical. It's sparked a lot of feelings for me, most of which are summed up in this text to Cassidy:

It's probably that last sentence that really gets me. As a child, I was often told that I was lazy and selfish, which I've blogged about before. Although everyone in my life now tries to reassure me that that isn't true, internalized beliefs are hard to shift. Plus, both sides of my personality would like me to choose the Boss Babe approach to postpartum, albeit for different reasons.

The ENFJ in me desperately wants to behave in the most socially appropriate, commendable way. She doesn't want to be labeled as demanding or inconsiderate; she doesn't want people to talk about her behind her back; she doesn't want to ask more of her village than she has done for others. Yes, I've brought friends a meal or two—but I've also held the baby and watched the new mother do dishes or fold laundry, which is a huge No No in the Hibernating Hippie approach.

The Eight in me desperately wants to show the world how tough and capable I am. Due to sheer luck and the grace of God, I've had an extremely healthy, easy pregnancy. The Eight wants to carry that into postpartum and motherhood, proving that my mind and body are exceptionally strong. Not only does she shirk asking for help (something in common with the ENFJ), she shirks the idea of even needing it.

To be honest, I think I could get the Eight on board easier than the ENFJ. The Eight understands that the body keeps the score. Nourish the body and everything else becomes easier. I also really WANT to embrace the Hibernating Hippie approach, and the Eight thrives on fighting for what I want, even when it might make people annoyed or gossipy.

But I know that community is a powerful factor in motherhood, and community is the ENFJ's domain. She's the one who maintains and repairs relationship, and monitors when I'm being too "extra."

Obviously there are a million shades of medium between the Boss Babe and the Hibernating Hippie, and I'm sure I'll color myself accordingly when the time comes. It's just...modern American culture kinda sucks. I've been thinking so when it comes to religion for a long time, and now I'm learning that the suck extends to postpartum expectations too.

Gabe and I have an INCREDIBLE village, people who have already told us that they want to help in whatever way is most helpful and that they never want us to feel alone.

So...I am just now realizing that this might be completely and utterly a Me problem. No one has told me that I'm "extra." I've already said that people insist that I'm not lazy or selfish.

Wait, is the problem with postpartum that moms often can't make themselves ASK for help, not that their villages wouldn't show up?

*stares out the window for several seconds*

Is my real problem the vulnerability element? I don't want to appear weak or look disheveled in front of people? I don't want to be the first mom in my millennial circle to embrace a more traditional postpartum philosophy?

Well damn, now the Eight is really perking up. She might even be ready to take on the ENFJ.

I guess get ready for me to ask you for meals and help with chores cuz...we might be doing this.

~Stephanie

Marriage Miracles

~ drafted June 14, 2024 but never published ~

Last night at dinner, Gabe pulled out his phone and said, "Okay, I have a few things to talk to you about, if that's okay?"

I nodded. "Go for it."

Gabe proceeded to give a rundown of where he is in the process of all the house-buying minutiae: when our internet here will end and start at the new house, when our power will end here and start at the new house, when we can turn on water at the new house, which security systems he's looked into and what their costs and processes are, how the pest control works, the fact that he's confirmed the date and time of the movers, the fact that he's on top of getting our trashcans.

"You don't need to do anything about this," he said, peering at me over his glasses. "I'm just keeping you in the loop. What?" He smiled hesitantly at whatever look was on my face.

"I'm just...kind of in awe," I said. I grinned. "Can you imagine twenty-two-year-old you doing this? He would've probably looked at the note in your phone and cried."

Gabe laughed, "Yeah, that's true." He glanced back at his phone to continue.

"No, seriously," I said. "This is WILD."

When we first got married, Gabe couldn't even remember to pay the power bill. He couldn't do homework and go to church and hang out with me in the same day. Now he takes ALL of the initiative, does ALL the research, handles ALL of the scary administrative stuff, and all he asks of me is to pay attention when he updates me over some dinners. And even that is for my benefit: he just doesn't want there to be any unpleasant surprises for me or for me to worry about anything.

I have a lot of life goals, but if my number one accomplishment in the end is being a good wife to Gabe, I will be honored. I will feel like my life was well-spent. He's obviously not perfect and there are days when Cassidy gets an earful, but I see God working through Gabe every day. Gabe leads from a place of love. He empowers me and I am comfortable submitting to him.

I don't think this post has a point except to brag on my husband and maybe to encourage people who are worried that they or their partner can't make it XD It can get better—not magically and not overnight, but it can get better.

As I type this, Gabe is in the kitchen making dinner after spending an hour and a half making cupcakes from scratch for a birthday party tomorrow.

If you'd had a backstage pass to the early days of our marriage, you'd believe in miracles right along with me.

~Stephanie