ago? Do you remember?
but I can almost guarantee that I was wearing a dirty shirt laden with spit up
and breast milk. It’s doubtful if I
would have been showered. The one thing
I know for sure is that I would have had a tear stained face and be holding a
baby who cried for 7 hours a day. I had
no idea why and no idea how to make her stop.
I do know that she made me so frustrated and angry because she wouldn’t
stop crying and she wouldn’t sleep for longer than 22 minutes at a time.
unbearable and I would retreat in myself.
Sometimes I didn’t know who was crying louder – her or me. I distinctly remember a moment in the rocker
when I held her out in front of me (ala The Lion King) and screamed, “Why are
you crying?!” I was often scared of my
rage and anger.
me and to be honest, I don’t know if I was asking her or myself that
question. I only know that I cried
pretty regularly those days.
100 hours a week and I distinctly remember feeling like this was all a huge
mistake. We had debated about having
children. We dreamt about all the things
we could do with our freedom if we didn’t have them and dreamt about all the fun
we’d have if we did. Surely this was a
punishment from God that I even questioned having children. Other people seemed to do this so
effortlessly. They made it look
easy. Their babies took 3 hour naps and
always smiled and laughed. My baby hated
me and had a hoarse voice from crying all day.
I swear she gave me the evil eye.
I felt helpless and out of control. I
cut us off from the outside world. I
felt as though I didn’t have any help but I doubt I would have let anyone help
if they wanted to. I didn’t know what I
plays back like a bad movie who’s star was anyone other than me. I often remember those feelings because they’re
just below the surface. They wait until
I’m comfortable and then the voices come out and try to tell me that I’m not good enough.
suppress them and it’s only rare if I listen.
However, I remember all too well the feelings that came with the
thoughts. “I suck at this.” “I was not
meant to be a mother.”
depression, post partum obsessive-compulsive disorder, post partum anxiety, and
posttraumatic stress disorder. A woman
named Katherine Stone was my lighthouse.
I never met her but she guided me to shore with the brightest light I
have ever seen.
survivor. She wrote almost daily about
her recovery and struggles. She showed
me that it does get better. It’s 6 years
later and I couldn’t even imagine how happy I’d be to be a mama to our three
little ladies. I seriously freakin’ loveit every single day because I remember how far I’ve come.