It’s 1030AM and I have already cried twice this morning.
This baby that I have prayed for and wished for and dreamed
of is threatening to push me over the edge into insanity.
The past three months have had so many special moments…watching
Baby Bean smile at the Sir, Fletchy snuggling up next to her on her play mat, and
Huck giving her a daily smooch on the face after intently sniffing her. We all desperately love this tiny human.
But as the weeks passed, I also slowly felt this depression
seep over my heart even as my love for this baby grew. And when the Bean was 6 weeks old, I was
diagnosed with Postpartum Depression and chose to start an antidepressant in
order to help manage it.
Postpartum Depression has come with its own struggles and
difficulties which are multiplied by a little girl who is an awfully high maintenance
baby. Baby Bean doesn’t like naps, only
occasionally likes baby wearing, and will scream if you are not staring her in
the eyes a majority of the day. Even
when I’m eating (that is, when she lets me eat), I have to take a bite while
rocking her, staring at her, or playing with her little feet in order to get
some type of food into my body. And it
is very difficult to “sleep when the baby sleeps” if the baby doesn’t like to
sleep.
We may have a day where she is minimally fussy and lets me put her down for a few minutes, but then I will have a row of mornings where from the moment she wakes up, she wants every ounce of what little energy I started the day with. And each morning when have a tiny amount of time to myself where she let me put her down for a 25 minute nap, I have to choose between eating, showering, exercising, cleaning my house, doing laundry, checking into our finances, working on a grocery list, or laying on the couch like a blob and watching Real Housewives...and 25 minutes doesn't allow for much of that to get accomplished. There has been many a time when I have been in the middle of a yoga routine or a bite of yogurt and she has woken up that I have sat there and cried for five minutes before going in to pick her up and continue on with my morning.
In the midst of these things I am also trying to overcome the
intense shame that I am dealing with Postpartum at all. The self talk of, “This baby was so wanted,
and now you struggle to hold her…what is wrong with you?” or, “You let her cry
in order to eat breakfast….you’re not a good mommy,” cycle throughout my head
daily. I waited three years to raise
this child, and now I’m struggling to do so, and I feel guilty about it.
So with lots of prayer and support from family and friends,
the Baby Bean and I will continue on this journey together and hopefully come
out sane on the other side.
Because someone handed me a baby, and I want to be a good
mommy to her.
