I’ve been wanting to write this post for awhile, but I didn’t know how to start. Writing it is hard for me, but NOT writing it seems like a lie. So here goes.

I developed postpartum depression a few months ago. It wasn’t immediate … it took a few months after TWO was born for me to sink all the way down to the bottom of a hole so deep I couldn’t find my way out. I felt angry and sad and I cried all the time. There were several incidents where I went into fits of rage that actually freaked me out. 

Several people close to me carefully mentioned I might need to speak with my doctor, but I was in denial. I thought my problem was sleep deprivation (which of course wasn’t helping). I thought it was all Husband’s fault. Somewhere deep inside of my head, I worried that I was simply a failure at this stay-at-home-mom-of-two thing. Maybe I just couldn’t handle it. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was married to a jerk. Maybe something was wrong with my kids. Everything seemed so cloudy … I couldn’t sort through it.

I did NOT want to admit that it was PPD, because that would mean seeking medical assistance. I felt like it was a cop out. Something about the whole situation made me feel weak, like I wasn’t strong enough to overcome life. I finally had what I wanted: two beautiful children that I was fortunate enough to stay home with. Why was I so angry all the time? Why did I cry so much?

My mother is the one who finally shook me into reality by saying I seemed so unhappy that it was making her sad. I was silent. And then I called my doctor. I am now medicated and feeling consistently cheerful for the first time in months. TWO finally started waking up just once a night the other week, so I’m feeling more rested. Suddenly, almost magically, life isn’t so damn HARD.

Medication isn’t an indefinite answer for me. I won’t take it for more than a few months. I went through a similar experience after ONE was born, but it wasn’t nearly as drastic as this has been. Every day I feel grateful to that bottle of pills. Judge if you must … but I haven’t cried in weeks. And believe me, I’ve had days that warranted tears. 

I’m writing this because I know there are so many women who will understand it. I’m certainly no pill-popper, but when there is a need … 

TAKE THE PILLS.

Now that we have that out of the way, I will go back to discussing fun and inappropriate things, like how my oldest son caught Husband and I in a “compromising situation” the other day. Let’s just say that you can lock the door and have a childproof apparatus on the outside of the knob, but if you fail to shut the door all the way, you may as well leave it wide open.

(source)

Oh, I AM.

Looking at old pictures makes me think. Especially when I’m looking at old pictures of me and Husband. That’s a hot hunk of man meat right there to your left.

Sometimes I forget that I’ve been with him for 9 years (!!) and it seems so weird that we now have two little boys and are settling into our thirties. It’s so easy to lose sight of each other. Life has a way of swallowing us up. 

And … pregnancy and postpartum hormones have a way of making me loathe Husband. Everything he does pisses me off. I can’t explain it; I assume it’s biological. You know, a built-in thing to prevent people from procreating again too quickly. Luckily, I found an old box of pictures that I’ve been looking through over the past few days and I think I’m falling in love with him all over again. 

I think I’m struggling to get my bearings. I’ll get there. I just need some time. Meanwhile, remembering where we’ve been gives me hope for the future. Also, this blog is cheaper than therapy … which is $80 per session, just so you know. 

In addition, I seem to be going through an identity crisis. Thank you for reading this blog as I stumble through it. I assume it’s normal for someone who is accustomed to working in high heels and lipstick to have some trouble adjusting to looking like absolute hell all day.

Wait, hold on. Let me take a picture so you can see:

I can only hope this situation will improve as my children get older. If not, I hold tight to the notion that once ONE enters school I’ll have time to shave occasionally. This Valentine’s Day was the first one EVER that I failed to shave my legs. I’m not even sure if I showered. It was really unacceptable. And unromantic.

When life gets me down … when ONE refuses to poop for days or when he accidentally pees on his hand and then wipes it on me … when I realize we have yet another plumbing problem in our house … when I look at our bank account … these are the things that make me question what I’m doing here as a stay-at-home mom. And then this happens, and I remember. 

Just like when I forget how much I like my Husband, and then I find a picture like this, and then I remember.

As long as he keeps looking at me like that, I think we’ll be okay.

Let’s just call this one I Love Cake.

Me and the photo scanner are at it again. I just. Can’t. Stop.

Waffle House, Collegedale, TN.

Here I am with my best friend Amy. It must have been 1999 or 2000 … hard to say, but I do know it was after The Worst Period Of My Life Ever when I went through some really bad stuff and cut all of my hair off.

Husband jokes about me having a “brother” every time he sees a picture from this era … I do not find it humorous. Also, I am an only child. But I do look boyish with no hair.  

One thing about looking at old pictures, it makes me realize I need to be skinny again. Maybe Husband and I should plan another wedding. That might do the trick.

Day before my wedding, with one of my besties Kate!

I love finding pictures like this one, too. It makes me remember Husband before we bought a house and a car and brought two little lives into the world. I really love that man.

My parent’s old apartment, Oct. 8, 2005.

Lately I’ve been really thankful for the small things in life that help me cling to the last shreds of my sanity and self-dignity. 

Just now I locked my three-year-old outside and encouraged him to look for bugs and jump in mud puddles so I could sit down for a minute with an afternoon cup of coffee. And I thought to myself, I am so thankful for this coffee. What would I do without it?

I’ll tell you what I’d do. Be sad. And I’d have difficulty mustering up the gumption to make it five more hours until bedtime. So I’ve created a list of items I probably could live without, but I’d rather not try.

1. Earplugs
2. Vaseline
3. Coffee
4. Full-fat half & half
5. Nars blush
6. Epsom salt
7. Dry shampoo
8. Curling iron
9. Childproof locks
10. Birth control

Since becoming a stay-at-home mom, I have undergone somewhat of an identity crisis. Or maybe a life crisis … I’m still unsure. The ten things I’ve listed were important before I quit my job, but now they are REALLY important.

Now I understand why, as someone who has dedicated this part of my life to serving my family, it’s so vital to cling to my SELF. I am still as much of an individual as I am a mother and a wife, but she tends to be pushed to the back burner on a regular basis. My days start with high-pitched screams or a child climbing over me saying “Mommy, Mommy, I’m hungry.” I have no choice but to deal with whatever pressing matters are at hand, all day long. Before I know it, it’s 4 p.m. This is why I lock my older one in the yard at least once a day.

I am starting to see light at the end of the dark tunnel I’ve been in since September. Things aren’t quite as impossible as they were at one point. Still difficult, but not unbearable. I think I’m starting to feel better … not quite as disoriented. Sometimes I still don’t think the reality has sunk in that I’m not going back to work and OMG I have two children. 

The one thing I demand from my family and myself that my SELF not get lost in all of this. I haven’t spent 32 years on this Earth figuring out who I am, only to lose sight of that now. 

Only 4.5 hours to go until bedtime. Cheers to that!

I haven’t wanted to say anything, lest I jinx it … but …

ONE is potty trained! He just decided out of the blue he was done with diapers. And that was that. We’re so proud of him!

It’s so funny how things like this are what I live for now. It seriously is the most exciting thing that has happened in my life lately. And I’m okay with that.

Kudos to all the mothers out there who bake with their children, because I can’t STAND it. And this is why:

Since motherhood is a both an exercise in personal growth as well as a catalyst for insanity, I forced myself to bake cookies with ONE even though I knew it would stress me out. The end result? We had fun. I recovered after 20 minutes of being left alone to clean.

I’ve been humbled.

As I type this, a very nice plumber is clambering around in the storage room on our back porch. I just heard a crash, and possibly an expletive.

This morning, we saw water pooling on our back porch. A lot of it. And now the plumber is here, except that neither I nor Husband thought about the fact that he might need to gain access to that room. It’s mortifying. He assured me he has seen worse. I believe him. But still.

I just snapped this picture while he was gone to get some tools. It doesn’t do the situation justice. There simply isn’t anywhere to put your feet. The other side has been cleared of junk so he can access the pipe, which is in the wall, and is split in two. He said “it’s going to be a pickle” to repair. And so, I wished him good luck.

“I’ll need it.” That’s what he said. He just walked outside with a saw. And we have no water. So … good luck to me as well.