Memoirs of Motherhood, Mental Health, and the Magic in the Mess. ♡
I’m unexpectedly revisiting an old journal of thoughts that I opened as I couldn’t remember it’s purpose.
These are the words of postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression.
Attempting to get philosophical about how much I’ve grown or healed since these days is a bit too wax-poetic for the raw pain of what this experience was and sometimes continues to be for me.
But, I can now say, and truly believe, that my kid loves me. 💚
7 years married, 11.5 years together.
D, I have no idea how you continue to love me, support me and put up with me. Truly. It baffles me.
We’ve changed a lot these past years — and not always in the same direction. We’ve given each other the space and the love we needed to find ourselves among such change, however. We’ve experienced the reckoning that is having a kid, and how to put the pieces back together of our marriage and our identities in its wake. We’ve loved, we’ve struggled, we’ve worked hard, and we’ve refused to give up.
We are entwined. Deeply. These roots are infallible. We might not always see eye to eye, and sure, we make each other a little crazy, but you are my home. I know not myself or my life without you.
And you’re still the one.
You always will be. 💚
(Quick note: O has never really been one for hugs or cuddles. He very infrequently gives hugs on his own volition and you often have to ask. They’ll last like a second and then he’s off to see the world again. It’s been like this for as long as I can remember.
1. When my kid sick, as he has been quite sick this week with the flu, a part of me is sad while another part is content. He cuddles when he’s sick! I get alllll the HUGS!
2. When he’s hugely mad and pissed off during hair wash time in the bath (his biggest enemy of the day), he demands hugs to make it end sooner. I don’t even care if it soaks me, he gets them, ‘cause HUGS.
3. When he’s stalling in not doing something D needs him to do, and uses hugging me to stall it even more, I’ll admittedly lean a bit more into those hugs than I should… ‘cause HUGS.
4. When I’m the one thing he can’t have (cause I’ve gotta be elsewhere or cause it’s D’s turn to do something) and he uses hugs to make it not so, I also lean into those and probably feed more into the situation than I should, but HUGS.
5. When I drop him off at childcare and I know I should be quick about it so separation is easier on him/me, but he’s giving me hugs, I’ll totally delay (sorry teachers) ‘cause HUGS.
Long story short, the potential of hugs make me a slightly terrible but awesome (?!) mom.
And, if I’m ignoring you or the whole ‘cause a hug is happening with my kid, it’s not you, it’s me.
We just got back from a trip to Las Vegas.
We’re home, unpacked, resting and watching O engage with his play space like it’s the most magical ever (and thank goodness for that, ‘cause we are tapped and have nothing at this moment to give him).
We may be tired, but the trip worked out well.
It was sad to say goodbye, as it always is, but I’m happy to have learned more about the resilient parts of my child.
He CAN stay the night somewhere else and actually sleep.
He CAN stay up late, or skip a nap, and not be a total mess as a result.
He CAN withstand a plane ride and all it’s weird/loud sounds and “not being able to move around lots” bits.
He CAN warm up to animals and in time, pet them and grow to be okay around them.
He CAN be at large gatherings for long periods of time and not completely shutdown because of all the loud sounds.
He CAN make his own way in places he’s never been and with people he’s never met or remembers ever meeting.
He CAN find camaraderie with his counsins and love his Vegas family from the get go, even if he hasn’t seen them face to face much in his life.
He CAN bust a sweet dance move to any length of music (expected or not), dislike other people’s “ceilings” and be terrified of his baby cousin no matter how freakin’ hard you assure him that he’s safe.
Some of these things may be obvious, and they should be even more obvious to me as an early childhood educator.
That’s the thing with post-partum anxiety + first time motherhood, though.
You convince yourself of everything but the obvious.
It was so good to be proved wrong. 💚
Thank you to those who told me it was time. You were right.