Love, care, and good nourishment — getting through the tough times

A big part of my anti-depression strategy in pregnancy and postpartum is to avoid the pit. It seems obvious in a sense but it is surely easier to avoid the fall into the hole than it is to climb out of it. I have been successful so far likely as the result of a whole lot of self-care as I discussed in pregnancy and again a bit recently. My top strategies continue to be (1) sleep as much as possible, (2) stay out of stressful situations, and (3) stay nourished.

If it were only the case that we could choose all of our circumstances, life would probably be reasonable. The fact is that life brings stress and we have to deal with it. With my first son, we had feeding issues that left us is such a state of desperation, perhaps I never had a chance. This time we are very lucky in many ways. Our son is even-tempered and happy. His mood helps mine which I am sure helps his in turn.

But he does have a medical problem that we are dealing with now. He will be fine in the end, but the stress of the process is more than anyone needs. If I sit still enough, it’s like I can feel the suction coming from that pit I am trying to stay out of.

When Alastair was born it was obvious he had a strange position in utero. His legs were crossed across his chest rather than in the typical folded position. During his stay in the NICU, a couple of doctors looked at his feet to determine whether he had club feet. “No,” they said, “just turned in feet from his fetal position.” We were referred to an orthopedist who said the same thing. He was in casts for about four weeks of his first seven weeks of life as you can see in the picture above. The orthopedist then referred him to a specialist at Children’s Hospital of Central California.

Two weeks ago we drove the two-and-a-half hours to Children’s Hospital on the way to a business conference. The pediatric orthopedist examined his whole skeletal structure and then talked about his club feet.

I said, “Three doctors told me that these are not club feet.”

“They are club feet.”

“But children with club feet usually aren’t healthy.”

“Most of my club feet patients just have club feet and are otherwise perfectly healthy.”

She cast his feet and sent us to our business conference. We then spent over two days in Sacramento with a baby ticked off at his new shoes and me saying to myself, “But these can’t be club feet.”

Alastair has gone through his baby stages of grief, passed denial, anger, and depression and has accepted the casts. I have finally accepted the club feet diagnosis as well but the process ahead looms large. He’ll be in casts for two more weeks, have a small procedure on his tendons, wear another set of casts for three weeks, and then face three months full time in a custom brace. His case is minor enough that he may get some freedom at that point. Once he can stand, he may have full foot freedom.

His case is mild. He will be fine. We will make sure he gets any physical therapy he might need. I know all of that but I have these thoughts like “How am I going to snuggle a baby in a brace?” and then I can feel the suction from that pit.

We went back to the orthopedist this week for a new set of casts and my mom spoke with the mother of twin girls recently adopted from China. They are about three years old and were only walking unassisted when they were adopted seven months ago. My mom was amazed that in those seven months they became so proficient on their feet. “Love, care, and good nourishment is all they needed,” said their mom.

We were driving home and my mom noted how much better I was doing after this visit than the first. She told me about the twins from China and the “love, care, and good nourishment.” She added “that’s what you need right now too.” We sent my husband and older son to visit friends at the coast and we’re taking the week off at home.

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