Busy Busy.

This is probably going to be my last post for a bit, unless I write this weekend. I have no idea if I will, I have a ton of stuff to do.

We’re headed to my parents’ on Monday. I’m very excited. I haven’t seen them since the beginning of September, which really isn’t that long, but I got used to seeing them every month when I was pregnant. R has changed a lot since then, and I know they miss him and us a lot. I miss my family.

My husband and I had a fight last night. He’s had a crappy week at work and took it out on me. I’ve been being extra nice to him all week, and it just crushed me, honestly. He said something derogatory about my weight, something I’ve been struggling with. I really only need to drop about 10-15 pounds, but still. I’m sensitive about it, and he knows it. Anyway, it was right before bed, and I told him he wasn’t allowed to speak to me like that, and when he stops acting like a douche, he can talk to me again. He slept in the guest room, mostly because I told him he wasn’t sleeping in the bedroom. He left this morning for work without saying anything and I haven’t heard from him all day. I feel bad, and I shouldn’t. We joke around a lot, and he will take it too far when he’s in a bad mood. I never say anything to purposely hurt him, and it just really hurts my feelings. The thing is, he knows it. He’ll try to play it off as me being too sensitive, but he knows what will happen when he goes too far and he still does it. I’m just annoyed about the whole thing.

Other than that, I’m still doing okay. R is being extra fussy lately, teething. I hope he’ll do okay in the car to my parents’, it’s a long drive. He didn’t do too horribly the other time we went, he was a little younger. We’ll see. I might have to sit in the backseat with him again.

Hope everyone has a good holiday.


Things I Wish They’d Told Me Before I Had a Baby.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, all the things you don’t expect and aren’t prepared for.

1. The biggest one: PPD. The only reason I was at all educated about it is through friends, and my mother. No doctor said a thing beforehand. At my 6 week checkup, I had to fill out a survey, and I was deemed ‘not depressed’. I wasn’t really at that point, the horrible stuff came later. I wish there was more information given by doctors before delivery.

2: You will be exhausted. Extremely exhausted. I always assumed I’d be tired, but having several nights of R waking up every hour and needing to be rocked to sleep gave exhaustion a new meaning to me. I remember partying well into the night, not going to bed til 5am, and not being that tired.

3. How terrifying it is. There are all these things you  never think of before. Such as, loose blankets. What if the baby accidentally pulls it over his mouth? Or, cutting their nails for the first time, and being scared of clipping too close. Or, introducing solids, allergies, etc. The list is so long.  I don’t know if my over anxiety is due to PPD. It may be.

4. It’s not as easy as it looks. I thought, while I was pregnant, that having a baby would be fairly easy. But, my R is already teething, gets bored so easily, sometimes it takes hours for him to sleep at night. It’s hard.

5. Time management is important. I’m still struggling with this. There are days that I get nothing done, because R needs me more than he does other days. My house isn’t as clean as it used to be, and if I do get extra time, I spend it laying on the couch or napping. It just sounds better than cleaning most of the time. Errands become a lot more complicated as well. Your time is no longer your own.

6. Having a pet is nothing like having a baby. It prepares you a little, but it’s not even close to the same thing. I had a very needy chihuahua for 2 years, he passed away when I was pregnant with R, and he was easier to handle. R needs to be rocked, picked up, fed, changed, bathed, etc., my chihuahua only needed blankets on the couch to sleep in, food and water in his bowl, and for you to acknowledge his existence by petting him or allowing him to sit in your lap several times during the day, and a bath once a week. They aren’t comparable. At all.

7. Breastfeeding is not easy. You think that you just put the baby on your breast, they latch, and that’s it. No. It’s hard. I tried for 3 weeks before I gave up. R was born tongue tied, which makes latching harder. My milk also never fully came in, so he wasn’t getting much, if anything. I tried pumping, and pumped about 2 oz per day. Formula gave me a little sanity back.

I’m sure there’s more I’ve thought of, but that’s all I can remember right now.


I did it. I socialized. A friend of mine invited my husband and I to a small barbecue this past weekend.

I went, and I did fine. There was even a new person there, and I did okay. Whew. It felt semi good to get out and interact. I still feel like a lone freak at times, and this just magnified it. My friend has 2 children, had one of them while her husband was deployed like I did, and never had a PPD issue. I watch her with her kids and feel guilty. I know I shouldn’t compare, everyone is different, yada yada, but it is what it is.

In a little over a week, we’re going to my parents’ for Thanksgiving. I’m a little worried, but nothing major. I can’t wait to see them. I haven’t told either of them about being diagnosed with PPD. My mom has battled depression off and on, since I was around 7. My goal in life, as horrible as this sounds, is to not be her. I don’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I don’t want my mom’s advice about it, I have far too many bitter memories of being left at school because she couldn’t get out of bed to come get me. I can understand it better now, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

R has his 4 month checkup tomorrow. I’m worried. I’m staggering his shots, and the doctor tried to bully me into changing his shot schedule last time. No one else could get him in in time, so we have to go back to that doctor. My husband is coming with me, but I just hope there’s no conflict. The doctor can’t change my mind, but I hate even having to argue. It’s just obnoxious and draining.

I haven’t been doing too badly. I feel a bit more motivated than I did, maybe I did just need to give my medication more time to kick in. I feel okay most of the time. There’s no overwhelming sadness anymore. That’s something, right?


Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond Street. Did it matter that she must inevitably cease, completely. All this must go on without her. Did she resent it? Or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?  –The Hours

I have these thoughts of dying a lot, I don’t plan how it will happen, I just think about it. Not the actual death, just not being here. Not having to struggle day after day. It makes me feel better some of the time. I feel peaceful. I’m sure that’s bad, somehow.

My husband is irritated at me. PPD equals no sex drive. Not that I really had one before. Our marriage has always been difficult. He still deals with PTSD. It’s not even close to as bad as it was, he saw a therapist for a while, and has been much better the past few years. But, back to my nonexistent sex drive. That’s basically it. I don’t have one, he has a ‘normal’ one, he gets irritated, and I don’t know what to do.

I hate not knowing. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, I’ve flip-flopped a lot the past few years. Truthfully, I just have no motivation to do anything. I haven’t for a while. I keep trying to remember what I was like before I got pregnant and I can’t.

I know I repeat this ad nauseam, but I just want to be better. Feel better, live better, be better. I’m glad babies don’t remember being babies. I don’t want R to remember me like this.

A Little Longer.

I had my OB appointment today. I love her.

I’m staying on Pristiq for another month-ish. Since I’ve had some results with it, she wants to make sure it kicks all the way in first, before going to something else. She said I looked better than the last time she saw me, not as frazzled. That’s good. We talked about the upcoming holidays, and the potential for my depression to feel worse around them. She wants me to find a mommy group to go to, to socialize and get support. I’m not so good at that kind of stuff. I’m quiet, and I get anxious in social situations. I told her I’d find one and try though. She thinks going to therapy will help me, she said that’s what helped her the most. I have that appointment on Monday. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m so so thankful for her. She’s such a great doctor.

Other than not being motivated to do anything at all, hence my house being messy, I’m okay. I got on the elliptical for 30 minutes yesterday, and that lifted my mood. I meant to today, but I had errands and some running around and I’m just too lazy. I will tomorrow though. R is still teething and screaming, but I’m not as frustrated, and I’ve been able to deal with it better.

Keep on swimming has been my motto lately. It gets exhausting.

You Are Not Alone.

I’m still amazed at the extent that those 4 words help me. Over the weekend, a few people told me that, and it gave me the strength to get through the day.

I am not alone. I’m not the only one who has felt the way I feel now. Others have, they’ve gotten through it, and there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I think of the end sentences of Brooke Shield’s book often, when she’s singing Itsy Bitsy Spider with her daughter. ‘Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.’ I just think that the rain can’t last forever, and I need to just fight through it. That the sun will shine once again, and I’ll be happy.

Since all this began, I do feel a little better. Those horrible thoughts don’t plague me as often as they did. It’s a little easier to get out of bed in the morning. I feel more connected to R, some of the time at least. I don’t feel as frustrated as quickly as I used to. I still have very dark days, but I don’t feel as hopeless as I used to.

I still think that I will do better on another antidepressant. I hope I don’t have to be on one forever, but for now I need one that makes me feel better. As for talking to someone, I still don’t know. The psychiatrist I saw wanted to see if medication could alleviate my depression. If not, he suggested therapy. I suppose I will just wait and see.


I think I need a different antidepressant. This one makes my mind a little calmer, but it demotivates me. I didn’t have any motivation to begin with, and it just makes it worse. I have an appointment on the 9th with my OB, and on the 14th with the psychiatrist, so I will definitely bring this up.

Yesterday was awful. I completely flipped out on my husband for no reason at all. He went on a 15 minute drive to cool off, and I don’t blame him. I was horrible, I said awful things and I yelled. A lot. When he came home, he hugged and told me to feel better. It made me cry. He was so nice to me the rest of the day. He took care of R and just let me be. After R was asleep, we talked, he asked me about my medication, what’s going on in my head, how I’m feeling, everything.

Everyday I just say I want to feel better. I feel like I’m losing that battle all the time. I’ll have moments of goodness, of when I’m happy and not having bad thoughts. R’s screaming doesn’t frustrate me as bad as it used to, and I do feel a little more connected to him. Then, I have to will myself out of bed in the morning and it starts all over again. I hate fighting all the time, it’s so exhausting. I have to fight not to cry, to feel better, to calm down. I want to get better so badly. I keep thinking that I won’t be this way forever, it will get better. So much of the time it doesn’t seem like it.