Before I got engaged, everyone asked me when Hubs and I would get married. Well, I dunno, I suppose sometime after he asks. Then the day came where we finally vowed I Do forever, and shortly after that celebration came the never ending question: When are you going to start a family? Well little did you all know, we wanted one right away! And right away we tried. And 8 months into our marriage our trying paid off. We were going to have baby P. Then, the day came when P was finally here. My PPD was already working its way full force through my system even before she arrived. In fact, it was working so fast I didn't even have time to fully realize that what I was experiencing was far from normal. And as soon as we left the hospital, before I could even soak in what I had just been through, the questions started all over again....when are you going to have the next one?
Are you freaking kidding me people? I just had the first one. I'm traumatized!!! I'm miserable, and cry, all day every day. I regret every second of my life from the last 9 months and you want to know when I am going to go through this hell again? What. The. Hell.
But seriously, when do the questions stop?
But here we are. P is 6 months old. Hold on to your seats folks, but I am actually ready to have the next one. Not right now of course, but I am openly talking about it. I am ready, in a few years, to go through this again. I'm prepared. I know I'll be okay. And I want to do this again.
One of the women in my support group brought up the fact that she will never have another baby because of her experience with PPD was so horrific that she could never risk going through it again, and she was wondering if anyone else felt the same way. I explained to her that yes, this was a deep feeling of mine. I was passionate about never having another baby. I knew better than to put myself through this again, but then I recovered.
I want to do this again. I can never get these times back with P, but I can get these times with the next one. I don't want to have to force myself to remember my baby as a newborn. I don't want to have to feel like I'm carrying a 500 pound weight as I pick up my camera to take a picture of my newborn...I want photos of me and my newborn, of my new family, in the hospital, and smiling. I want videos of my tiny, little, new, wrinkly, red, squishy baby lying peacefully in their bassinet. I want to rock them in the middle of the night and feel peace, not resentment. I want to nap during the day when I should, and appreciate those little fingers wrapped around my thumb. See, I didn't get any of that with P. I was robbed. PPD robbed me of those memories, of those feelings, with P. And I know I can never make that up to her. I know I can never get those pictures and videos of her as a fresh, new person ever again, but I can of the next one. And I am determined to do so.
But please stop asking me when I am going to reproduce again. I am recovered, but I am still in the midst of recovery. I am still medicated. I still work, very hard, everyday, to enjoy P. I love her, do not ever doubt the love I have for this baby, but some days we work to feel that love between us, and not just to feel it, but to show it towards one another. But our family is hopeful for the future, and our family is excited to meet the next member and take another journey into the depths of parenthood and what it has to offer. Our family is patient for the day that brings us to our Do Over.