Most days, I feel like I have my s**t together. I manage the kid, the dog, the husband, the house, and the job. I'm exhausted, but I get what needs to get done completed. It ends up with me getting very little time to myself. I prioritize a few *Sarah things* during the week...watching "Dancing with the Stars" every Monday, getting a pedicure every few weeks, trying to squeeze in a workout at lunch, and reading a book, even just a few pages, before bed every night. I feel like I'm giving so much to everyone else during the day that focusing on me for just a bit feels heavenly and selfish at the same time. It's a constant struggle.
When P was almost 4 months old, I broke a little. After talking to a doctor, I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression. Knowing I wasn't going crazy and that I could work on fixing this was empowering. I was put on some medication and have been on it ever since. Generally, I feel pretty good. But just when I feel like I'm going to be ready to come off the meds soon, I have a weekend like this past weekend, and I question everything.
P hasn't been feeling the greatest since Thursday and was running a low grade fever, coughing, and congested. This is pretty much par for the course for us anymore (thanks, daycare), but he wasn't himself this weekend. On Saturday, he took four naps, all on me (with the exception of one which was on A). I was able to break away during the nap on dad and walked the dog and got a pedicure. Overall, Saturday wasn't horrible, but we didn't get anything done and I felt a little stir crazy by the end of the day. But such is life with a baby.
Sunday was a different story. A had a flat tire and needed to get it fixed, leaving me with P alone. Normally, this isn't a big deal. I wrangled the stroller and the dog and we went on a long walk. And then the whining started. I know, he's a baby. But everyone reaches a breaking point. It was a lot of crying, not wanting to be left alone, and general neediness. Normally, I am all about some baby cuddles, but I was having a bad day and the more restless he became, the more annoyed I became.
Once A got done with his truck, I basically tossed the baby at him (not really) and just laid on the couch. I was done. Done with dealing with it all and done with feeling guilty about feeling done with dealing with it all. That's the thing about PPD, it makes no sense and sometimes the feelings hit you so hard and fast that your brain can hardly keep up.
I love P. I mean seriously, look at those cheeks? I would never do anything bad to him. But one of the challenges with PPD is that you have to know your limits. When your brain starts heading down a dark road, you need to acknowledge it and give yourself some space. Be okay with allowing yourself a little bit of grace. I struggle with that a lot because I expect myself to handle it all. And while I can most days, there are those times when I can't. And that is when I need to remember I'm part of a team and I'm not in this alone.
When P was almost 4 months old, I broke a little. After talking to a doctor, I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression. Knowing I wasn't going crazy and that I could work on fixing this was empowering. I was put on some medication and have been on it ever since. Generally, I feel pretty good. But just when I feel like I'm going to be ready to come off the meds soon, I have a weekend like this past weekend, and I question everything.
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| My sleeping prince... |
Sunday was a different story. A had a flat tire and needed to get it fixed, leaving me with P alone. Normally, this isn't a big deal. I wrangled the stroller and the dog and we went on a long walk. And then the whining started. I know, he's a baby. But everyone reaches a breaking point. It was a lot of crying, not wanting to be left alone, and general neediness. Normally, I am all about some baby cuddles, but I was having a bad day and the more restless he became, the more annoyed I became.
Once A got done with his truck, I basically tossed the baby at him (not really) and just laid on the couch. I was done. Done with dealing with it all and done with feeling guilty about feeling done with dealing with it all. That's the thing about PPD, it makes no sense and sometimes the feelings hit you so hard and fast that your brain can hardly keep up.
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| Me and my littlest guy. |
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