We had the incredible honour of getting to share Kim Crossman’s pregnancy journey here at Capsule through her column, Pretty Pregnant. Well, Kim is no longer Pretty Pregnant – 10 weeks ago she welcomed her precious first baby: a darling little girl. And, just 10 weeks ago, Kim – staying true to her Type A personality – handed in a story just a day after giving birth, sharing all the twists and turns of her birth (that went completely differently to the way she expected) and, sharing a first look at her gorgeous little girl: Coco Joan.
Pretty Pregnant has become Pretty Postpartum and Kim has been generously sharing all the ups and downs and startling discoveries of postpartum with us. If you haven’t read her updates you can read her story about Coco’s birth here to read it now! Her update at two weeks here!, a month in, here, at six weeks, here, eight weeks here and ten weeks here.
Now, Kim is sharing the latest piece of her story – Kim shares her honest thoughts as she Coco reaches the 12-week point. Isn’t now supposed to be when she ‘finds her stride’? So, how come she is finding the nights so tough? Why does it feel like every night is a ride of unhinged negative thoughts?! Oh, and she has a butt update AND a gorgeous Coco update!
Night-time Kim cannot be trusted
This is not a new phenomenon for me, to be honest. I have always been my best, most stable and most awesome in the mornings. Then I slowly lose steam during the day and become slightly unhinged in the evening.
In the peak of my depression, I used to combat my worst negative thoughts by putting myself to bed insanely early. Whilst I am not saying I am depressed, there are some parallels I’m experiencing with sleep deprivation and coming out of the newborn bubble that almost feels like a wave of unhinged negative thoughts, high irritability and, in all honesty, a completely warped lens on the world come night-time. Like a reverse vampire.
I remember reading that some of the hardest seasons of grief are about three months later when other people go back to their lives, the assumption that you are finding your feet is made and for the most part your event is now somewhat in the past. That is kind of how it feels with a newborn.
As I reach the 12-week milestone I feel like I am finding my new normal and whilst I should be feeling better than ever, I am mostly in the evenings feeling intense sleep deprivation, irritability and exhaustion, more so than I did in those novel early new baby days.
Part of this could also be that it has only been Tom and I here in LA and I am also acutely aware that I will be solo parenting for a couple of weeks come Monday due to a work commitment Tom is going to do. So maybe anxiety is also raising her head.
Probably not the bubbly sunshine way to start a blog and I promise there is a lot of fun to come and highlights, but I felt so compelled to put pen to paper this morning because I felt so differently than I did last night.
I do not use the word crazy to describe myself (unless in jest!), or women in general, because I think it is low hanging fruit and often used when describing someone who is simply standing up for herself against sh*tty male behaviour. But I’ve honestly felt a little nuts the last few days – by how I could flip-flop from feeling so overwhelmed, deep in a case of the poor me’s, feeling like I am single handedly responsible for regulating everyone’s emotions around me and hard done by, to the next morning feeling fun, bubbly and almost scoffing at my night-time self who seemed so doom and gloom. I sound crazy.
Let’s also talk about men. I love my husband and he is a great dad. He is kind, he wants to be included and he helps me see the lighthearted side of things when I literally sh*t the bed. Yet for some reason when he does things with Coco I have this completely undeserved background panic that what he is doing is either wrong or not right or she does not like it. Coco on the other hand shows no signs of ever being in distress or discomfort. I saw a few reels like this online so I feel safe saying it here knowing that I am not alone. Tom is great but there is this little protective ping that I have to bite my tongue on correcting him for anything he does.
I would love to know if you have felt similar, if night-time you seems a little unhinged and what you did to remedy it or have some more grace for yourself. Is it normal to feel the most sleep deprived and chaotic 12 weeks into mum life? Shouldn’t I be “finding my stride” or “nailing wake windows”?
We are currently exclusively breastfeeding which I think means I have a lot of some kind of hormone which has the side effects of me most likely still physically soft everywhere and a little cuckoo at times. Humour me and let’s blame it on the hormones.
And I think my negative self-talk does not help the situation – I do often feel at the end of the day is when I try to review the day’s events and often feel like I have come up short somewhere. Did Coco do enough tummy time reflective of her age bracket? Did I give her vitamin D drops, something I only just learnt about and did not know I was supposed to be doing? Did I overstimulate her? Is she gaining enough weight? All the fun markers of development I want to nail yet always feel like I am not quite hitting. On top of that, I know I have unread messages from my best friends and family too.
Morning Kim is very proud of the way I mother. I make it fun, Coco has almost all of my attention, we sing, we smile, we babble and we are around good energy and good people. Night time Kim is a dick.
Also, thank you to all those who reached out and explained that tummy time is not just on the floor – it can also be me holding her in a rugby hold and on my chest babbling, something we do a lot of. I appreciate all of you who reach out and your messages always land. Thank you.
So let’s pivot to something fun and embarrassing. My butt. I have been doing my exercises, yet still having some trouble with urgency and leaking and farting and walking. I am not sure when I should be noticing more progress. I have a few good days where I feel confident and then a random day where I am just a bit gross. I like to think God is humbling me and making me better at comedy, that is why I have been given a weak anus. Keeps my feet on the ground and thickens my skin perhaps.
It has also been super fun these past two weeks with Tom, Coco and I. We have been to Dinsneyland, Joshua Tree and to some of our favourite spots in LA. We are enjoying little milestones, bath time and just being on the same page as each other, as our communication has improved and we are laughing more than we were a few weeks ago.
We watched a reel about how marriage can change with the arrival of a new baby. How “it is not that the love is gone, just that it is buried”. I did not think that would resonate with us, we are obsessed with each other. But it has been a bit buried to be honest.
We have been working on having more grace with each other and also still doing things together with a little sidekick now. Still going out to eat occasionally, still leaving the house, sometimes I have to force myself, and still making effort with each other. That is helping so much and I am really going to miss him over these next few weeks… Great, now I am crying.
I should probably also share something funny. I put my last blog into ChatGPT to spell check and I said how does this sound. Even ChatGPT said I had a few spelling errors but my blog was vulnerable, humorous and unhinged. So good to know I am consistent I guess. It would not be a Kim Crossman blog without me tearing up at least once.
Now here come the real tears. I have a 12-week-old baby. I could not love her more. She wakes up smiling. She is yet to giggle, but I can feel that it is right there. Sometimes she will unlatch herself feeding to look at me and smile, often followed by a big fart, and I just feel so freaking lucky to be her mum.
They say children are sent to test us in some way. She is forcing me to be present, something I have struggled with my entire life. Then this magical being has come and forces me to just be and even though sometimes it is uncomfortable as my brain floods with things I should or could be doing, often I am reminded that this moment, the moments with her, are the ones I am supposed to be in.
Now here comes my apology. These past 12 weeks, the amount of strangers that have said “good job mumma”, “you’re doing great”, or offered to open a door or congratulated me or commented on how magical Coco is, have been overwhelming. I feel ashamed that when I saw a mum before I had Coco (BC) I do not think I ever complimented a mum on how she was doing, congratulated her or took a second to ask how she was. I am sorry.
I know now the way a compliment can uplift you, how just being seen or recognised can interject negative thoughts or doubt and I promise to make sure I do shout out mums who are doing it from now on.
We were at the markets and we love seeing other babies and taking it upon ourselves to have a good chat. Tom without prompt asked one of the mums how she was doing and I physically saw her melt at the opportunity to share. Tom also has been asking me most days, “how’s your prolapse” because I told him I wanted him to care more. A good reminder to ask for what you need and to remember people are not mind readers.
I would love to hear from you if you have any great relationship advice whilst navigating parenting, if you have any tips on getting Miss Coco to take a bottle, I feel we have tried everything and she just wants the boob, and what I can do to help limit the effect night-time Kim has on my existence.
As always I appreciate all of you on this ride with us and I imagine I will be leaning on you all a lot over the next two weeks while Coco and I go it alone.
Much love 💛
