Getting by...

Postpartum depression. There. I said it. I'll talk about it since not most people will. For some reason it has such a stigma attached to it that we, as women, are left to feel ashamed by it. Well, I can officially say I am struggling with postpartum depression. (Disclaimer to this post: Yes, I am currently being treated so please do not take this post the wrong way. I just feel like more people go through it than will admit to it. I hope that everyone who suffers through it gets the medical attention it deserves.) The "baby blues" are more than just a color. It has left me nearly incapacitated at times in every sense of the word. Some days I have forgotten to eat or drink. Most days I've cried. Many times I can have both children screaming, and I am completely unable to pick either one up. I've broken things out of anger. I've had thoughts that my children would be better off without me.

Postpartum is much more than just sadness. To give you a visual imagine you were drowning in a lake that has been frozen over. No matter how good you are doing at swimming it's never going to be good enough because you are trapped. It's not just I am physically trapped. It is the feelings of guilt that most often plague me. I have two healthy boys, a supportive husband, and friends and family who will be there at the drop of a hat. So what's the problem? I am fortunate enough to stay at home with my children while they are small. So what's the problem? These are the things that trap me. Every little "what if" that enters my mind becomes a hurdle that I must overcome instead of just a passing thought. It's these little "what ifs" that make me want to get in my car and just keep driving west. No destination in mind.

This isn't something I am going to kick overnight. The worst possible thing someone can say is, "It'll get better." I know that. My doctor relates it to a soldier who is in the middle of a grenade fight. Of course, it'll get better but right now it sucks. Admittedly I am the worst at asking for help. I am finally starting to ask Brian for help, but it takes a huge amount out of me. I guess it's a pride thing. I don't want any added guilt by asking someone to help watch my kids while I get some "me" time. In my mind, that's selfish. God gave me those two boys and so they are my responsibility ALL the time. I know I need to ask for more help, but it will take time.

My reason for writing this is not to create alarm or panic. Please don't misinterpret this post. I am writing because many of my readers are moms or will be moms. Postpartum depression is a very real thing that is treatable. I hope that if you are going through this or have gone through this you break the silence and get some help. Rest assured I am getting help, and I do see signs that things are improving. It's a slow process though with many roller coaster weeks. Right now I am getting by.

Sh!t happens

This scene from the movie Caddyshack sums up my three days with the kids while Brian was in Canada...allow me to explain. For three days Jack's constipation was my focus. Why is it that I am begging this child to poop and celebrating when he does? In a few months, I'll need a gas mask and rubber gloves to clean that booty. Cameron, who must be starved for attention, decided to get in on the action. Bath time is usually a good time for keeping both kids calm. Cameron can splash around in the water, and Jack will lie on the rug and talk to us. Bath time is also a great time for spreading panic for their momma. As Cameron is splashing around and brushing his teeth (Yes, I let my kid brush his teeth in the tub. He also drinks the bath water. Get over it.) he creates his own jacuzzi by farting in the tub. He giggles. I giggle. Jack just stares at us. Enter Caddyshack. That wasn't just a fart. DOODY!!!! DOODY!!!! THERE IS DOODY FLOATING IN THE TUB! Panic commence. My son is still in the tub! SHIT. My son's toothbrush is still in the tub! Every bath toy we own is in the tub! My son's pacifier is in the tub! Did I mention there is DOODY in the tub? OH SHIT. I drain the tub then turn to grab Jack, but don't pick him up because I realize my hands have just been in doody water. I still am not sure why my first instinct was to grab Jack when clearly Cameron was the one sitting in the poo water. I go back and grab the pacifier and a couple toys. Why am I still not getting the kid? At this point Cameron then decides to sprawl out on his belly in whatever doody water still remains. (I was asking for that. Clearly my reasoning skills under pressure suck.) Cameron got two baths that night, and we are minus one pacifier. The toothbrush was Brian's, and I just put that back.

Kidding.

I bought another pacifier. :-)

A fence

My husband gave me the best present a girl could ask for - a fence for the backyard. It really has changed our lives. Cameron is all about the outdoors and to let him loose is a thing of beauty. At the end of the day he's sweaty, sticky and full of dirt. He's all boy.

Cameron got to play with his cousins Alex and Kaleb these past few months. He had a great time with Kaleb in the wagon.
In his glory!

Bubbles are the latest craze. If you notice the puddle in the background, that's the container of bubbles he dumped out. He still doesn't understand that they aren't edible.

Picture updates

I hadn't downloaded pictures from my camera in quite some time, and I found a few gems.

I love this picture of Jack's bathtime. It's one thing that soothes him and usually leaves him wide awake.




He's bigger than his brother was at this point, and this picture shows it.

Jack has started smiling and cooing a lot. He's definitely a happy baby, especially at 4 am.


Cameron feeds himself with a spoon now, but sometimes I take that for granted. See picture below. One minute he was eating spaghetti-o's and then he realized his hands are giant spoons. As you can tell, we live in a house where mess is just another decoration.