I'm back to work and feeling great, atleast better than I did during the time the last post was written.
My Benefits dept called me about 3 weeks ago and told me that the 8 weeks leave I was originally planning was now 6 weeks. Apparently, the woman who was handling my leave was confused. So my leave was cut short and I've been back to work for a little over a week. I'm considering it a blessing in disguise given that I would still be going stircrazy had I still been home.
I was talking to a friend the other day who is a mother of a one-year old. We were comparing war stories and I noticed that when she mentioned how much she loved being a mother but hated her pregnancy, I was realizing how much I loved the pregnancy, but hated the last 6 weeks. I love being a mother, and I love this little girl with every ounce of my being, but sometimes my love for all things mommy was overshadowed by all things frustration. And I noticed how different I was in that I had no seperation anxiety in going back to work. I left the house at 7:30 with a spring in my step and without a tear in my eye. I'm finding myself missing her during the day and devoted to her when I get home, but leaving in the morning is so easy.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Filter
"How's Stephanie?" they ask.
"Great," I answer.
And she is. But what I don't add is that she doesn't sleep at night, and it drives me crazy. Correction. She sleeps, but she chooses the comfort of mommy's chest to lay her head rather than her crib. The result? Mommy doesn't sleep.
Sometimes when I choose to blog about something personal, I think twice about it. Same with conversations. Do I really want these people to know that my life is tainted with personal issues? I have a great marriage, loving family, fantastic job... but on the inside?
I looked up post-partum depression online the other day. I didn't consider it a possibility. The website I chose defined it as feelings of suicide, homicide, or inflicting injury. Those thoughts have never (never ever!) crossed my mind since giving birth (or beforehand) and so I convinced myself that wasn't it. And besides, I thought with PPD, I am supposed to not want to have anything to do with her. Again, not the case. I could hold her in my arms all day and gaze into her gorgeous blue eyes. I play with her. I tickle her. I sing Close to You by the Carpenters to her. But at night, I am frustrated. Annoyed. Unhappy.
Every night, at around 7:00, I start to feel down. I get nervous and tense. I think about what her sleep schedule will be that night. And how much my sleep will be affected. Because I'm still out on maternity leave, I get up throughout the night and let Ken sleep since he has to go to work the next day. Up until a few nights ago, she was up almost every hour. Wide awake and hungry. During the day, the formula knocks her out and she sleeps really well. At night? No amount of fluids could make her weary and her eyes have a constant deer-in-headlights look. This past week, she had a few consecutive nights of letting us sleep for 4 consecutive hours, which is HUGE. Last night she was back to her old tricks and I lost it.
When I am sleep deprived, I am extra emotional. And so I started to cry, something I've started to do frequently when woken up by her. Begging her to sleep as I hold a bottle in her mouth. Because mommy can't sleep during the day. When she naps, I can't nap. Somehow I am programmed into believing that I'll sleep through a cry or that she'll suddenly roll over onto her stomach - which screams of SIDS - and also which is pretty unlikely at 6 weeks of age but since my mind wanders, that's what is keeping me from napping.
During the day I am fine. Happy. Social. But when darkness hits, my mood turns sour and I am pessimistic and depressed and negative.
Ken and I have gotten into more arguments since she's been born. Some have been petty, some not so much. The most recent? I don't think he's hands on enough. He'll hold her or feed her when it's convenient for him.
When he comes home from work, I expect more from him. I am with her all day and overnight, I think he should give me a few hours off when he comes home from work. But many times when I ask him to take her, there is always something to do.
I gotta go to Home Depot.
I gotta go mow the lawn.
I have phone calls to return.
I have to get ready for tomorrow.
And I don't say anything. I let it go. Well, atleast until tonight (which empowered me to write this blog.)
He told me I was in a state of depression. And that makes me shudder a bit. Because part of me thought that only I saw it. What does it mean that those around me, those CLOSEST to me, are seeing it too?
I'm not a believer in pills, or Scientology vitamins, because I don't consider it to be that bad. It only affects me at night, and who is to say it is PPD? And I'll be getting more sleep when I go back to work in a month and Ken takes 3 weeks off to take care of her before we put her in daycare at the 3-month mark. And soon after she'll be old enough to sleep longer at night and I'll be fine.
Right?
My mother tells me it gets better. I know it does, and so I look forward to that. But right now? The fact that as of this moment it's NOT better is what weighs on my mind. Sigh.
So yes, Stephanie is fine. Thank you for asking. But this was something I felt I should blog about. Instead of the fluff that usually ends up here, I wanted to post something more real. Raw. Unfiltered.
"Great," I answer.
And she is. But what I don't add is that she doesn't sleep at night, and it drives me crazy. Correction. She sleeps, but she chooses the comfort of mommy's chest to lay her head rather than her crib. The result? Mommy doesn't sleep.
Sometimes when I choose to blog about something personal, I think twice about it. Same with conversations. Do I really want these people to know that my life is tainted with personal issues? I have a great marriage, loving family, fantastic job... but on the inside?
I looked up post-partum depression online the other day. I didn't consider it a possibility. The website I chose defined it as feelings of suicide, homicide, or inflicting injury. Those thoughts have never (never ever!) crossed my mind since giving birth (or beforehand) and so I convinced myself that wasn't it. And besides, I thought with PPD, I am supposed to not want to have anything to do with her. Again, not the case. I could hold her in my arms all day and gaze into her gorgeous blue eyes. I play with her. I tickle her. I sing Close to You by the Carpenters to her. But at night, I am frustrated. Annoyed. Unhappy.
Every night, at around 7:00, I start to feel down. I get nervous and tense. I think about what her sleep schedule will be that night. And how much my sleep will be affected. Because I'm still out on maternity leave, I get up throughout the night and let Ken sleep since he has to go to work the next day. Up until a few nights ago, she was up almost every hour. Wide awake and hungry. During the day, the formula knocks her out and she sleeps really well. At night? No amount of fluids could make her weary and her eyes have a constant deer-in-headlights look. This past week, she had a few consecutive nights of letting us sleep for 4 consecutive hours, which is HUGE. Last night she was back to her old tricks and I lost it.
When I am sleep deprived, I am extra emotional. And so I started to cry, something I've started to do frequently when woken up by her. Begging her to sleep as I hold a bottle in her mouth. Because mommy can't sleep during the day. When she naps, I can't nap. Somehow I am programmed into believing that I'll sleep through a cry or that she'll suddenly roll over onto her stomach - which screams of SIDS - and also which is pretty unlikely at 6 weeks of age but since my mind wanders, that's what is keeping me from napping.
During the day I am fine. Happy. Social. But when darkness hits, my mood turns sour and I am pessimistic and depressed and negative.
Ken and I have gotten into more arguments since she's been born. Some have been petty, some not so much. The most recent? I don't think he's hands on enough. He'll hold her or feed her when it's convenient for him.
When he comes home from work, I expect more from him. I am with her all day and overnight, I think he should give me a few hours off when he comes home from work. But many times when I ask him to take her, there is always something to do.
I gotta go to Home Depot.
I gotta go mow the lawn.
I have phone calls to return.
I have to get ready for tomorrow.
And I don't say anything. I let it go. Well, atleast until tonight (which empowered me to write this blog.)
He told me I was in a state of depression. And that makes me shudder a bit. Because part of me thought that only I saw it. What does it mean that those around me, those CLOSEST to me, are seeing it too?
I'm not a believer in pills, or Scientology vitamins, because I don't consider it to be that bad. It only affects me at night, and who is to say it is PPD? And I'll be getting more sleep when I go back to work in a month and Ken takes 3 weeks off to take care of her before we put her in daycare at the 3-month mark. And soon after she'll be old enough to sleep longer at night and I'll be fine.
Right?
My mother tells me it gets better. I know it does, and so I look forward to that. But right now? The fact that as of this moment it's NOT better is what weighs on my mind. Sigh.
So yes, Stephanie is fine. Thank you for asking. But this was something I felt I should blog about. Instead of the fluff that usually ends up here, I wanted to post something more real. Raw. Unfiltered.
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