Oh great, another mommy blog, as if there's not enough of those floating around on the internet, right?
What's the difference between mine and everyone else's? I didn't write everyone else's. Writing has always been a passion of mine, and since it seems to come so easily to me, I thought I would give this blog thing a shot. So, here we go....
On December 26, 2014 my entire world changed. My beautiful daughter, we'll call her P, was born at 6 lbs 15 ounces and 18.5 inches long. She was perfect in every way. My amazingly supportive husband, we'll call him Hubs, cut the umbilical cord and shed a few tears as he met his daughter for the first time and kissed my head thanking me for giving him such a beautiful daughter. Awe, how heartwarming. We finally had it all; great jobs, a house, a beautiful marriage and now our perfect daughter. I had everything I had ever wanted, but why was I the saddest I had ever been?
Everyone tells you that when your child is born and you see them for the first time you fall in love and feel a love more powerful than anything. I was in love with my husband. I was not in love with this wrinkly, wet, jaundice baby that was suddenly thrown on my stomach. Surely, I loved her, but I was not in love with her. I had just met her! I knew absolutely nothing about her and she knew absolutely nothing about me. I assured myself this feeling was normal, however as soon as we got home from the hospital with her I knew something wasn't right. I found myself crying uncontrollably for no reason and felt like I had ruined my entire life. Sadness and regret filled every moment of my day. And breastfeeding? Fuggaetabout! At times, it was nearly impossible to get myself off the couch to tend to my crying infant. Thankfully, Hubs took a 4 week paternity leave and came to the rescue every time. What the heck was wrong with me!! I prayed every night to God to give me the strength and patience I needed to be a good wife and good mother to little P, but every morning I woke up disappointed when the feelings of sadness took over every minute of my day.
On February 3, 2015, one of my worst fears came true: I was diagnosed with post-partum depression. I felt like a failure as a mother and a wife. The one thing that I was biologically destined for was the one thing that was making me incredibly miserable. On the flip side, the diagnosis also brought a sense of relief and hope because I knew that it was the first step to getting better so I could enjoy my new little family. I longed for normalcy in my life and to feel like me again, so here I sit, in the dark on a Wednesday night, with a beer in one hand to maintain some normalcy, while Hubs rocks P to sleep next to me, trying to find myself again, and hoping I can help others that may have gotten lost in their new journey into Motherhood.