I wish being a new mom made me tired. I wish it made me stressed and busy, but left with feelings of fulfillment at the end of the day. But it doesn't. I'm well rested. I'm bored. A lot. Stress? Nope. Busy? It's not that hard to chase a 9 week old baby...they don't move very fast. And mine is apparently happier than a clam in her swaddle with a paci in her mouth, swaying back and forth with me in a rocking chair so I can catch up on Facebook or, apparently, my blog. I found myself this week bitter at other new moms who share their funny sleep deprivation stories or haven't showered in days because they're so busy keeping their household together. Well people, I just don't get it. I make dinner every night, do laundry, go to bed at a decent hour and usually get 6-7 hours of solid sleep, and showers? Yeah, I take at least a 20 minute shower everyday. I'm one of the lucky ones!! Uhhh....
No. With no stress and long ass showers comes time. Time to think. Time for me to realize that motherhood would be much easier if my worst problem was simply sleep deprivation. No no. That is only the beginning.
Each morning I wake up eager to pop the next anti-depressant out of sheer FEAR that if I wait too long I'll start to feel an overhelming amount of sadness that I won't be able to bounce back from it and I will spend the entire day in tears questioning every life decision I've ever made that has led me to motherhood. And drugs don't fix everything. The other night I had a legit anxiety attack that Hubs had decided to leave me for another woman and bawled uncontrollably for 45 minutes while feeding my baby. Keep in mind, Hubs was at work at the time and I hadn't spoken to him since his last break hours sooner (at which time he gave no indication that he was leaving me). I was an irrational mess. I AM an irrational mess, and no nap or full night sleep can fix that.
Then Guilt decides to keep me company too. Why not? Before giving birth, I shared the excitement and happiness with others around me for the arrival of our little bundle of joy. Once she was finally here, that excitement and happiness continued for everyone. Except me. I should be the most happy; I'm her mommy! I watch family and friends holding P and they smile and giggle with her and tell me they miss her later on and how great she is. Well, I know she's great. And I do smile at her and when she smiles at me it is honestly the highlight of my day and I question if I'm choosing to be sad because how can something so precious not make me giddy? So I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I can't enjoy my baby as much as others and it kills me to see how happy other people are when they hold her. And I don't miss her. I could leave for hours and not miss her. Of course, I worry about her. I want to make sure she's safe and soothed because I love her, but I do not miss her. So I feel guilty. And there are times Guilt and Bitter collide and I miss being able to go out to dinner with Hubs or see a movie together, or cuddle on the couch without worrying we're staying up too late because I know I'll be up at 3am. I feel bitter I don't enjoy my marriage like I once did, and then guilty for wanting to put Hubs before my baby.
I tell myself that by writing this blog, putting myself out there and becoming vulnerable that I can somehow help someone and make a difference, but honestly, I'm not so sure anymore. How can I help others when I haven't fixed myself yet? How can I help others when I am still embarassed and ashamed that I have a clinical diagnosis of post partum depression?
All healing, whether physical or emotional, takes time. I spend my days waiting for the clock to be up on my time and I will suddenly be cured. That I will wake up one day and I will be back to being Me again. That I will be the mommy I have talked about wanting to be for years with Hubs. That I will be the wife Hubs deserves and had before my hormones decided to take me hostage.
Oh yes, I wish sleep deprivation was biggest problem.....
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