Let me deliver this stream-of-conscious information to you with a caveat: I am not suffering from postpartum depression. I do not feel the desire to hurt myself or my baby. And I promise I'm not making light of situations that involve women who have or do feel this way. I guess this is my way of saying, "I understand how one can get there." But don't be worried about me after you read this post, please.
As I hope you all know (although it would be my fault if you didn't), our sweet Beau Asher has graced our lives with his presence. He has been with us for more than two weeks now. And he is such a joy and a blessing. Sweet, mostly mild-mannered, sleeps well, eats well, fun to be around.
However, I'm sharing with you where I am right now. I just went to the bathroom for the first time since 8 this morning. That's 11 hours ago. I'm starved, even though I just snacked not very long ago. So as I type, I'm taking breaks to scarf down leftovers. Lots of carbs. My right boob is hurting--again. But in a different spot this time. It's 7 p.m. To me this means two things: Cole's going to need a bath soon, and Beau's going to need lots, LOTS of TLC soon, because he's about to get very fussy for about 3 hours. And after Cole's bath, he's going to need to be put to bed. And I'm exhausted.
Did I have a nap today? No. I chose to go shopping for real shirts today instead of maternity clothes during my nap time. Nice to have the clothes; not nice to be sleep deprived. And Beau napped the entire time I shopped. Nice to have the ability to focus; not nice to be sleep deprived.
As I'm typing, Cole's piling a million CD's into my lap for some reason. And honestly, I'm trying to pretend he's not doing that. He's asking to listen to some annoying lady sing songs about him. "This song is for COLE, he's a special boy..." I just don't think I can handle that.
And bed time right now sounds great. But Biggest Loser is coming on in 50 minutes, and I really want to watch it. Looks like I'm making some choices today, huh?
I need to hear this is normal. I don't need to be scolded. I know I should nap when the baby's napping. I know Cole needs me to give him attention. (Now he's wadding up scraps of paper and chunking them at me while I search frantically for my happy place.) But honestly, I know I should have napped today, and to be frank, I think I'm doing pretty well not to yell at Cole for being himself--funny but with annoying tendencies.
So, that's where I am. I'm not really going crazy, but I need a break. I'd take a 24 hour break if it didn't mean I'd have to strap myself to a breast pump 8 times over the course of my break. So what I'm saying is that I'll go back to what I was doing 10 minutes ago. I'll get up from here, give Cole his bath, rush him to the bed in hopes that I haven't missed too much Biggest Loser, latch that baby on "to feed" (as Gilbert says) and hope that pep-talk I gave Beau about not being fussy tonight actually works. Because I guess this brief pause I allowed myself is all the break I'm going to be getting.