Um. Hmmm. What day is it? Where am I?
I need to face facts. Newborn bliss has faded. I am tired and my life revolves around boobs and poop.
Don't get me wrong. I adore my wee babe. But good god, I forgot how annoying massive boobs are...seriously. Ouch. And how little sleep I can have and still (kind of) function.
And last week, I hit a big wall and ended up calling my doctor, sobbing. I actually scared myself...anxiety like I'd never experienced, crushing anxiety. And I was so irritable and impatient. Forget about a short fuse...I had no fuse.
Suffice it to say, my doctor immediately wrote me a prescription for antidepressants and scheduled me to come into the office asap.
At first, I was absolutely gutted that I needed help. That I couldn't handle things on my own. I don't like to ask for help.
To be honest, I'm still struggling with it - I didn't have PPD with my first child. Why now? What's different?
Logically, I know that this is something I can't control. It's an imbalance. My hormones are all out of whack. And my doctor assures me it'll get better.
Emotionally? I'm kind of pissed. I'll get over it, and I know I made the right decision in seeking help.
For now, I just want to enjoy this precious short time that Baby C is sweet and tiny. I need to remember to soak it in...time is fleeting. I don't want to wake up from this haze and realize I've missed anything.
- Posted from my iPad! I know!