This Child of Mine Pt2

Becoming a mother is something I dreamt about as long as I can remember. I used to day dream of having twins, or five kids and what I would name them. I never had any doubt that I would one day feel a baby kick from inside my belly. Thankfully, I was blessed with two beautiful little girls. The most extraordinary creatures I've ever met. Because I have always wanted to be a mom I never, in my wildest dreams, could have imagined that I might not be the happiest woman alive. Until it happened.

I remember the day I realized I was not okay. E was about eight months old. It was 4 in the afternoon. I just finished nursing her and she was laying on a blanket in our living room floor, playing with her toys, as happy as can be. I was also laying on the floor, but not beside her. Not looking at her or playing with her. Instead I laid on that hard floor and could not stop the tears. I cried and cried until I wasn't sure I had any liquid left in my body. Why was I so unhappy? What was the purpose of my life? Thankfully my husband walked in a few minutes in to my cry fest, although it felt like I had been lying there for hours, completely consumed by my own misery. He got down on the floor with me and very gently told me that I needed to be seen. He told my I had postpartum depression.

What?! Postpartum depression? You have got to be kidding me! That is what I thought and probably said to him. He explained how, for months, he had been secretly trying everything in his power to make me happy again, but nothing was working. He told me he was scared for me. Scared. Hearing those words I stopped all my thinking and crying. I took a deep breath, stared off into the distance and I knew he was right. I was suffering. I was suffering big time and I didn't even realize it.

That night I tried to go back over the past few months and pinpoint what was making me so unhappy. I had an easy baby. I loved her so much. I actually didn't even mind the nights she woke up because I would just stare at her in awe. I loved when I got to hold her and smell the top of her head. I remember that every time I had to lay her in her crib, I would give her a big squeeze and whisper "thank you" for having her. I never, ever felt like I wanted to hurt her. I just wanted to love that baby and her to know that she was the most loved child in the world. She was never the cause for my unhappiness.

My husband was helpful. He came home every day from work and instantly jumped in. Laundry, dishes, cooking, cleaning, diapers. He did it all. He thanked me daily for doing a good job. He played with E and loved on her like the devoted father he is. I couldn't put blame on him, even if I had wanted to. No, my sweet husband made me happy.

What was it? I don't know when I realized this, but it has been something I haven't been able to shake. Being a stay at home mom sometimes feels like I'm failing. Growing up, I wanted to be  something. Something special. Something important. I remember in high school when teachers would ask what everyone wanted to do. I would sit in class and think to myself that most of the people in the room probably would never accomplish their goals, but I was different. I was going to do it by George. And then life happened to me too. Goodbye George, hello adulting.

Before I had E, I was finally in a place that felt accomplished. I was in the Air Force, doing a mission I felt passionate about. I felt like a rockstar in my flight suit, I had an adventurous life, great friends, and a man who adored me. Not lying, I had it made, y'all! Then, when I became a mom, all of a sudden I was at home, with no "job". We still lived in the same house. I still saw the same friends. Only thing is, they were still rockin' it and I was breastfeeding with a cover.

I needed to do something to get out of this. So I called the doctor, filled out the postpartum survey correctly and cried my little green eyes out in her office. She referred me to a therapist and I couldn't wait to go. I only saw that therapist once, but it changed my life. She told me it was okay to be sad that I was no longer the independent woman I had grown to see myself as. It was okay to morn this transition. She told me it was hard to be living around the same people except now I was on the outside. She told me to talk to my friends, workout, get out of the house and start to find a new normal. It helped! I already had made some new mom friends and they helped me more than words can say. We started working out together several times a week and I unloaded my feelings on them.

I wish I could talk to my new mom self and tell her to take a deep breath and let it out. I wish I could tell her that she isn't a failure. She is important. She is succeeding. I wish I could tell her that its okay to be sad sometimes and there is no reason to be ashamed of it. I wish I could tell her that she isn't alone because we ALL feel this way sometimes. I wish I could tell her to not loose herself in trying to be perfect. Keep buying pretty purses. Keep fixing your hair. Keep doing that hobby that you love, because if you throw your entire self into your child you won't be the best mom you can be and that baby deserves a happy mom.

I learned so much from that experience. Over time I got to such a happy place. I fell into a routine. Then I became pregnant with child number two and my world got flipped, turned upside down...