Still Climbing

I have been given strict orders from my husband to sit my ass down here and write. So that’s what I’m doing. I’ve been telling him for days, maybe even weeks (gosh, has it been more than a week?) that I really need to update my blog and let everyone know that I’m doing okay (with shitty days mixed in between) and am not lying in bed everyday . . . an emotional wreck. Okay, honestly though, I guess I am an emotional wreck, but I am a well medicated emotional wreck, :-) Here’s what a typical day in the life of me, Jessica, here known as Green Mamma, and to others as Mamma and Sister, is like, since being diagnosed with postpartum depression:

6:00/6:30 a.m. wake up; roll Levi onto my hubby’s chest; slip out of bed; make a bottle for Levi; get dressed and lace up my sneakers

7:00 a.m. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run like my life is depending on it (it sort of is). Run because my psychiatrist says so. Run because it makes my heart beat, makes my legs ache in that fantastic achy sort of way, and it makes my mind slow down . . . the faster I run, the further away from the fog I go. When I finish, I down some water and take my meds. I figured out that zoloft makes me edgy; I’m just loving my Lexapro though, :-) oh, and I thank the creators of atavan just about 2 or 3 times a day.

Somewhere between 8:00 and 8:30 a.m. Open front door; listen for several scenarios: a) children well fed,dressed, husband folding laundry, and husband offering to let me take a shower, b) children are still hungry, both are screaming, husband is grumbling, and the cat is circling my legs begging for attention, or c) a mix of both a and b.

9:00 a.m. I bottle nurse Levi for almost an hour. Somewhere in there I fit in a shower; meanwhile Levi is either asleep in his bouncer or screaming until his head is purple (color coded crying . . . something only other parents of newborns can relate to . . . I stole this one from my friend Andrea); Annabelle is either at preschool or zoning out watching Dora the Explorer (hey, at least she’s learning Spanish vocab, right?); I have heart palpitations while showering at record breaking speed (this is great for the environment but horrible for my anxiety disorder); I throw some clothes on, pick up Levi (whose head color slowly returns to a peachy reddish color), and tie my hair back in a wet pony tail before applying makeup (I must wear make up . . . I am just one of those women who wears make up . . . I like to think of myself as a lipstick wearing feminist even though I don’t wear lipstick . . . oh my goodness, I am so rambling and so thinking this entire post is going to suck . . . oh well.)

10:00 a.m. or 11:00 a.m. (depending on how long all that takes from 9 a.m.) Go do something. Leave the house. Drive to the grocery store or meet a friend, make a phone call. Whatever. I just try to get out of my house. I am learning that I am an extrovert and I need people to feel good. I need my friends. Thank you God for friends.

12:00 p.m — ish Lunch. I whip up something for Annabelle (often vegetarian chicken nuggets with carrots, sometimes pizza or pasta) and I try to remember to eat something myself. Meanwhile Levi is either starting to fall asleep or is waking up from his nap. Of course, these interval naps occur on my chest because I wear him in the Ergo just about all day long.

1:00 p.m. I read Annabelle stories and tuck her in for a nap. Naps are getting shorter these days but that’s not totally a bad thing because bed time keeps creeping earlier and earlier (I think we are all just exhausted; I know that I am). After snuggling, a kiss, and an I love you, I take Levi to my room for our nap (if I’m lucky). I lower the blinds, turn on a fan and lay down with him, bottle nursing, and we rest. On other days, he wants to play. I let him stand up on my chest and my belly and he smiles and smiles and smiles. He loves when I sing to him. He loves to show me how strong he is. Even though I am usually dead tired on the days when he wants to play (instead of napping with me), I find that these are some of my favorite moments right now.

3:00 p.m. Annabelle wakes up. I strap Levi back into the Ergo. We snack and head back outside; we visit with neighbors, friends; draw with sidewalk chalk, blow bubbles, or walk over to our park; we walk the neighborhood when Levi is fussy (gassy), and every now and again, I sit down in my tailgating chair and feel all happy inside because I know that in the affluent area where we live, I look very much like a redneck. Oh well. I like being a redneck.

On some days, an awesome chick who I hired to help with the kids comes over. She’ll play with Annabelle or take Levi for a walk. She stays for 2 to 3 hours. I am thanking my lucky stars for her. Not only do the kids love her but I do to. I am praying that she stays with our family for a while.

5:30/6:00 p.m. My husband glides in, either on bicycle or sometimes in his car. I swear a choir begins singing inside my head the second I see him. I am just like, “Halleluiah! Halleluiah!” We (my hubby and I and our kids) stand outside (in our parking lot) and catch up with each other because for some reason, Levi starts to wail the second we try to step inside the house. I think crying his bloody head off is how Levi decompresses from the day . . . that or he is just 8 weeks old and is fartin’ up a storm with his immature digestive system. From here on in, we take turns with Levi, walking up and down our street or sitting on our couch, patting his back. Levi really is a farty little baby.

7:00 p.m. Someone gives Annabelle a bath. Lately it’s been me though this has long been a Daddy-Annabelle ritual. To be honest, I love giving her a bath these days because I actually get to see her one-on-one. We talk about the day. She rates the day telling me whether it was good or bad. Apparently she also rates the day later in the evening during conversations with her dad. She likes to report to him on Mommy. I just love it when she shares the really good nuggets of info with him, like how Mommy slipped the f-bomb out while getting dressed (or something equally juicy). Gotta love my 2 year old. She’s getting so smart, so articulate. I really need to watch my mouth around her.

7:30/8:00 p.m. I collapse into bed with the kids. Annabelle snuggles next to me and asks to nurse. There is no milk anymore but I let her nurse because it’s a bond we are managing to maintain as we go through this transition to 4 and well, I have to say that I feel really guilty that my 2 year old has had to see her mom hit such low moments (I am only human though and well, it might not be so bad for her to witness a range of human emotions). I’ve been telling her that we’ll have a retirement party for the nummies when she turns 3. She is really excited about a party; she is pretty appalled at having to say goodbye to the nummies (and nursing). A part of me is sad too but the part of me that is trying to save myself right now feels like it is okay for me to let the nummies go (for both kids).

Over in my other arm is Levi. I snuggle him into my elbow and bottle nurse him. He is getting so big; such cute chubby cheeks; he slings his leg over my stomach.

And the day sort of wraps up with Matt picking up Toby and bringing him down to the basement (I’d wanted to find a new home for our cat Toby but after some woo woo with Robin, I’ve had a change of heart. Toby can stay but I’ve told him he can stop pissing all over our basement and that he really needs to let his mommy sleep when she can sleep since sleep deprivation is a huge factor with ppd. So far, Toby seems to understand). Matt then does a bedtime routine with Annabelle before collapsing into bed with me and Levi. Our night just kind of goes on from there with intervals of sleeping, bottle nursing, fussing, diaper changes, etc. The best nights are the ones where Matt and I will wake up at 2 a.m. and are like wtf, our baby is still sleeping? And he is. And Matt will ask, “Is he breathing?” And I assure him that yes our baby is still breathing and being adorable and being his beautiful baby self.

So, if you didn’t pick up on it already, I’ve decided to let go of nursing Levi. I know what those of you who are breastfeeding advocates are going to say, think, maybe even comment; or maybe I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my own insecurities. But how’s this? I am starting to feel good again. I am not saying I am Ms. Happy Pants with a license to smile, but I will say that I am starting to smile again, now and again. I am cleaning my house again (and you all know how fantastic that makes me feel, :-) ). I am starting to accept that I am a mother of 2 babies who need me so much and that I am only one person capable of just so much.

I am getting there. One step at a time, but with each step, I climb a little higher.