6 weeks mark

By May, I was officially at the six-weeks mark of postpartum. I was really excited because I felt I had survived. My doctor's appointment would happen this week, the baby was still alive, and I had heard that it gets much easier from here on out. I was severely disappointed when I was still unable to sleep. The colic baby would not stop crying and would not sleep which meant I would also not sleep. I would lay down and hear every footstep, breath, car and was consumed by thoughts about the well-being of the baby. 

I read up on Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) and other stories of anxious parents calling their pediatricians with statements like, "my child rolled off our bed and onto the floor and I think he's dead!" I worried about the bath being too hot, cold air freezing the baby, exposure to fluffy pollen, and my milk not being good enough. 

I continued to search for advice, or anything that allowed me to feel less anxious. I labeled my worries as "new mom anxiety." And I promised myself whenever I was with the baby, I would never leave her out of my sight, or trust anyone else, including my husband. I felt alone, exhausted and overwhelmed. I kept hearing in the back of my mind, “what a bundle of joy!” I couldn’t find that statement to be true at all.