PPD – the ups and downs

As I continue to write about my experience with PPD I am amazed at how many women feel the same as I do, or have.

To me, the worst part of PPD was not how it destroyed every last bit of me that once knew. No, it was that not every day (or every moment depending on the day) was a bad day.

The hardest part for me was in fact when I had a good day. When Henry didn’t scream so much. When Sofia’s belly wasn’t so full of air. When I actually took a shower, including shaving my pits (and giving them a good scrubbing in hopes to get rid of that funk).

Those were good days.

And they felt so rewarding.

Sometimes, it felt as thought a lightbulb went off and “click” this, I mean this was what it was supposed to feel like to be a mom.

Capable.

Confident.

Maybe not the prettiest, or sexiest. But definitely stronger than weak.

And then something, any one thing would go wrong.

And I was a failure all over again.

I used to think of depression as sitting around, moping and crying and just feeling sorry for myself.

Now, for me, that was definitely a part of my PPD, but I was angry, irritated and sick and tired of feeling miserable. It took so much energy to find joy.

I can honestly say that I did not enjoy that first laughter from either of my children.

I didn’t rejoice in their first teeth or first crawl, or the first time they ate food.

Sure, you can find pictures that I took documenting those occasions, but I did not, deep in my heart, have that feeling that *I* as a mom, was proud.

But to tell you the truth, I don’t regret my lack of pride in those occasions.

For me, Sofia eating solids was more about her belly learning to fill up and digest something other than my milk. I wanted, no, I needed to nurse her as the only thing I alone could do.

But I also needed a break every now and then.

I have begun to celebrate things that my children do.

Henry deciding to ride his bike, WITHOUT training wheels. I actually jumped up and down and screamed in joy and excitement (rather than the screaming I have done at him in the past – I write that with shame).

It never helped me in the depths of my PPD to know that others found a way to the end – all it did was piss me off. Where was my end? When would I feel bettter?

and then eventually, fearfully asking, would I ever feel normal? What if I hate the new normal?

I don’t have answers yet, because I am not yet through.

But I can tell you I have more ups than downs.

And I am learning that the downs do not have to be the end of an up.

Let me interface this – I hate roller coasters. I mean hate. I like to think of PPD as a roller coaster. One of those great ones that people stand in 2-3 hour lines in 90-degree high humidity heat at Cedar Point.

And I guess that’s why normalcy, with all its boringness and simplicity is so appealing at this point.

Normal.

That’s all I want.

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