It's too much

I can't concentrate. The depression is very bad. I am doing my best for my daughter, but sometimes I just can't take it. I never imagined raising a child would be so hard; I'm not cut out for it. I would say this is still ppd, but it's been over 14 months now.

No, this is me. Never happy no matter what; even if I get everything I want. When my lover was here, I could disassociate with him; now I have nothing to disappear into. Just me getting sick, little one getting sick, watching my husband be energized and happy. I feel very much on the outside, locked in a glass cage. Sometimes I want to howl with my little one, when she screams, I want to do it, too. I want someone to take care of ME. I'm so exhausted, in every single way. I haven't been able to lose the weight from my pregnancy, I can barely move at the end of each day. My hormones are still a wreck; I have the hunger of pregnancy but I'm NOT! I don't understand what's going on.

I need to say to someone that I have started drinking a little. Sometimes my nerves are so shot, when the fussiness won't stop, when I'm alone with my daughter and I am depressed. I drink whiskey or rum. A swig or two, just enough to put a damper on the despair. I did last night. I did a few nights before. I need to talk to someone, I'm hurting inside, like a sword stabbing me in the the stomach over and over again. I'm back on the seroquel for sleep and anxiety, and I'm afraid I might end up doing something.

I don't understand--everything seems to be going fine. I mean, my daughter is healthy and well-adjusted and on track in every way. My career is going fine, I'm very involved in my other "career" and am doing fantastic things. I have plans for going to New York for a conference next month, then a beach vacation in June, then London in the fall.

So I just don't understand why I want to drive my car into an electric pole. I am fighting the urge physically to do this whenever I'm behind the wheel. I have to be constantly vigilant. And when I discovered whiskey about a month ago, I was so relieved. Finally, something to dull the pain. I do when my husband's around and he doesn't even notice. He's so entranced with my daughter, he doesn't notice much.

When my lover is here, I feel wanted. It gives me a reason to look forward to time. Right now, I can only see the endless routine of the days. Little sleep, little food (and I don't lose weight!!), exhaustion by 4PM, then I have the hardest part of my day ahead of me. It goes on for hours. Any time by myself is spent fretting about the lack of time. Piles and piles of laundry and dishes and bottles and spilled food. I am so tired, and this is not going to end, not for a long, long time.

Rough ride

It's been a while since I've posted. I've been through a pretty rough ride, what with depression rearing its ugly head again. Sometime I feel such a desperate sense of hopelessness and being "blocked in" by life. I should be so thrilled being a mother, but I am not finding the joy I had hoped. I don't have a natural sense of playfulness and I simply want to be alone sometimes. I'm not a bad person for feeling this way; I suspect this is part of the depression disease that I inherited.

On a positive note, I am not acting helpless about the depression, which would be my normal modus operandi. I am trying to be as proactive as I can, with my husband's urging. I am signed up for another intensive weekend-long therapy retreat in May. Thank goodness. I've been a long time out of therapy, but I am still involved, if you know what I mean. Also, I finally found a church I can live with. I attended last Sunday and it felt better. I felt relieved and refreshed for the first time in a long time. The church's motto is "church for people who don't do church" lol, the perfect hook for reeling me in. It reminds me a lot of my last church, but it is quite different. I'm not sure I'll ever find another pastor as radical as my last one, and it was his uniqueness that drew me in. But I've grown up since then, and I can handle a pastor who is a little more conservative now.

So, between an upcoming therapy retreat and a new church, I'm doing much better. I'm also doing well in my career, have been asked for another interview, am busy as a bee and absolutely love it.

My lover seems to be doing well, too. I saw a photo of him the other day and he actually looks healthier and heartier being deployed than he did at home. I have thought a lot about his lifestyle and have come to the conclusion that it probably isn't the best for him, but he will take himself out of it when he's ready. Living alone in a townhouse, dark brown curtains over the windows, hanging out on the internet much of the time...I know he's got a porn addiction problem, as he has admitted as much to me. Overseas, he's always with people and can't hole up in his den like he does at home. He looks happier and livelier. I don't know if our association is such a good thing for him...I haven't looked at it this way before. I know it's been what he's wanted, but is it healthy for HIM? I have to admit, it probably isn't. And as much as I dread him letting go and moving on, I'm watching and waiting to see what would be best for him. I really do care, deeply.

Magic

For some reason, this song makes me feel very sad.

Magic. I know I'm already emotional; I'm swimming in the depths of it right now. Last night was a beautiful evening with my daughter. I love her. I can't state that emphatically enough. We were watching this wii program--aquarium--together, just watching the fish swimming on the screen to the sound of classical music. She leaned against me, rested her head on my bosom and rubbed my arms with her feather-light fingers. She relaxed. I couldn't tell if she was asleep...I smelled her sweet baby scent, stroked her head, and wanted to cry. This was the most intimate moment I've experienced with my daughter since she's become aware. The breastfeeding was intimate, too, but she wasn't aware of the world and choosing me at that time. Tonight, she chose me. She sees me as an important and comforting part of her world! Why does this surprise me? Because of the PPD, my human frailties, my dysfunctions...so many people have chosen not to love me. And it's been so difficult. But last night was worth every second of every pain I've ever experienced.

We are so alike; we have the same feisty spirit and the same stubborn streak. She looks at me out of my own eyes. She has taken on my smile and the way I move my eyebrows, even. But at the same time, she is completely her own person, having her own experience. When I picked her up at daycare yesterday, one of the little boys threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly--my eyes teared up, what sweetness she attracts to herself! How she manages to charm everyone she meets..how her smile lights up her entire self! What a beautiful journey! I am so excited to watch her grow, every day. I feel blessed to be her mother : )

A pagan ritual...and THIS is why people have babies!

My daughter and I connected yesterday in a beautiful manner.  I took her to the mall (I rarely do that, as I emphatically do NOT enjoy this typical American pastime) and pushed her around in her stroller (which I also rarely do, as I "wear" her everywhere), and this little girl was thrilled! The sounds, the sights, the people, the glitter; she simply loved it. And then we sat down to give her a bottle and she ended up laughing (and drinking at the same time!) and playing with my face--yanking my ears, my chin, caressing my cheek and smiling and giggling. As for me, I was loving it, too. So happy, so content. And she is beautiful, absolutely stunning--my round face and luminous eyes; her father's auburn hair, light skin and stunning blue eye color. This afternoon was worth everything. And this is why people have babies : )

Things are getting very intense now, as my "rendezvous" is approaching--less than two weeks to go. We are making plans, mercilessly teasing each other, finishing up our shopping expeditions...for me, I try to make every encounter different. This time, it's all about the details. Those exquisite details from etsy, the collar he gave me, sexy black stiletto heels, tatted lace bracelets from England, and the perfect finishing touch--Italian black stockings with red lace from Papilio. The sales woman helped me pick out the perfect touch : ) Ahhh. I'd already sent him the leather bracelet, just to get his mind racing...he's a very intellectual thinker and planner and these details send him over the edge; I just love it. And as for him, he's actually been making (permanent!) changes to his bedroom just for me, to accommodate my particular tastes. What a treat this will be. Next weekend is my spa day to purify my body; a ritual that I do every time. I feel as though I am preparing for a pagan ritual, and perhaps this is exactly what it is. It feels natural and in touch with the primal forces of nature--last time we were together, the crickets sang (their mating sound) so loudly, almost to match the songs coming from the inside of the house, that he calls me "the woman who speaks cricket" and I call him "the man who makes crickets jealous."

Update...things are definitely getting better

We upped the dose of the meds. I think it's helping, because I had a decent evening with my little one. I love picking her up at daycare. The look of recognition on her face is priceless and seeing her laugh just sets my heart soaring. It's so up and down, isn't it?

I was chastised by my psychiatrist for letting this get out of control; suffering serves no purpose, she said, unless I enjoy it. I stopped to think about that. Suffering is what I'm comfortable with--enjoyable? No, I would say not. It's more like I believe I don't deserve to be at peace.

Dh does say he understands and wants to support me to the best of his ability. It's funny; I think we're getting tired of the grind and routine and we'd really like to spend quality time together without it revolving around our daughter. That's a change, a lovely change. When dh and I hug or kiss each other in front of our daughter, our 11-month-old SMILES at us! This little human already knows about love! I'm amazed at her intuition already. She points to things she wants, she flips through books and laughs, she's playing with the other babies now, too. This fascinates me: the other day I pick her up at daycare and she is poking and touching this other baby's face. Well, this other baby is just sitting there, smiling at her and letting her do whatever she wants. No fussing, no upset, just patience and a look of sweet amusement. My daughter is enjoying the game and pushing the limits with this little boy...and THIS made me think of me and my husband. The calm, gentle willow tree that puts up with (with mild amusement) the impish antics of his wife. My daughter is a wild child, a wind spirit who will need someone exactly like this little boy beside her later in life. That was quite a heady experience for a mother!


Let's see, the meeting with my lover is in about three weeks and I am having a great time doing some, ahem, shopping...to appease his fetishes (and mine). Which is actually helping dh and I because it's opening up ideas for us, too. I found this amazing shop on Etsy--the young woman makes tatted lace jewelery--NeoVictorain, gorgeous, sexy, sexy, sexy things! Here are a couple of examples (her shop is Decoromana)

I can't believe the gorgeous, professional items on Etsy, and very reasonably priced, too. Why didn't I check this out before??? And get these--mini spats for a pair of amazing black stiletto heels (from BagavondBags )...

Now, is that something or what!!!

And...

Three sisters leather wrist or ankle wrap ( from kristinmalotte--or choker, but I don't need that since a personalized leather collar was his birthday gift to me...)

And then, of course, there's more, but I'll leave it for now : )
He's so much fun; he's hinted he's done some shopping for me, too. I can't believe he and my husband get along, as well. It's very bizarre, out of this world, but fun : )

All very different aspects of my varied, strange, and adventurous life : )

Good news for a change

It's 3am and I can't sleep. I feel very blessed right now-this PPD support group I tried out is absolutely perfect. Exactly what I need. Compassionate moderators, understanding participants, resources that I've desperately needed. A place to cry and express the unsayable without judgment. A warm community of women of all different ages, and we are all experiencing the same thing! I've missed this kind of companionship. I feel so much better just having listened and been heard.

I asked, and God provided, in His own time, yet again.

Not only that, and it would have been more than enough, but dh got an incredible annual review and a substantial raise. Very unexpected in this time of fiscal austerity, and very welcome. We don't have to worry about money so much; that's a huge relief.

When my daughter returned to her daycare today, we found it completely changed for the worse. And yet again, the timing was perfect, for today I signed a contract for a new home daycare that will be so much better for her. Our doctor had told us two weeks ago to get her out of the old one, and a connection of mine recommended her sons' daycare, and there was one opening. Perfect. My pastor was right : ) God is there and opens up the door when needed-not when wanted. I guess God wanted me to experience and learn a lot before deciding these lessons were finished, as usual.

I am grateful. Lost sleep is no big deal in the face of these huge blessings!

Oh joy!

Ah, Eulogy for Evolution. That really makes me think. 3055 by Ólafur Arnalds, a young Icelandic artist I have just discovered. Beautiful, haunting music. It seems appropriate for my state of mind. Perhaps you can understand.

Having a child is both life and death. Death of one's old life. Birth of another. It took me this long to feel the bright red pulsing of intense love for the little soul who wreaked such havoc in my life. I needed distance until now; I needed 8 hours away every day, an adult focus on adult things. All of the sudden, my heart bloomed like a rose in full flower. Words don't do this feeling justice. Just music.

She smiles at me with compassion, this little soul. She smiles at her daddy with excitement; she smiles at me with COMPASSION. Is this the way I smile at her, mirrored back? Oh God, I am in tears. This compassionate, understanding smile--I have never seen a smile like this, ever. My heart is healing. Each time I look at her, my heart mends another minuscule tear. I know she feels loved. She does not get upset when I leave her in the morning for work. She knows I'm coming back...she knows the evening is all ours!

She has saved my life. Just as my friend foretold. And we've hardly even begun.

Oh life, beautiful life, so full of pain and joy. One cannot exist without the other. The excruciating pain of birth brings with it the exquisite joy of life.

Self-forgiveness is possible...

Still on the upswing...life is pretty decent right now, despite the distress of having been rejected by half of my family of origin. I find I can live with the unresolved, I can hold on to my dignity, and I can keep myself afloat. And it's not just survival anymore.

A good friend told me, right before my daughter was born, that I BELIEVE I will be taking care of her, but in reality, she will be taking care of me. That was a puzzle to me for these past six months, but just this week I understood...I looked at her face, her beautiful face and (she looks so like me!) felt a strong wave of compassion. An emotion I have never felt toward myself. It was for BOTH of us. What a sweet, beautiful, INNOCENT child she is...as I was, too. How could an innocent baby be the cause for her own abuse? It's not possible. I love her so much--so much that I am able to forgive myself, deep in my heart, for the first time.

I can't describe the euphoric feeling of connecting with another tiny human being who has your features, your EXPRESSIONS, your mannerisms, and clings to you as though you are her entire world. This feeling, right here, right now is worth every second of the discomfort of pregnancy, the pain of birth and recovery, and the changes to my body.

Trying to translate love into action

All of this reminiscing about the past is starting to affect me; I feel as if I have a thousand ton weight on my head. I wish I could erase my mind. When you consciously try to forget something, it suddenly looms larger, doesn’t it? I find myself up at night (when my baby is sleeping moreover!), staring at the ceiling. And, no, I do not have an interesting ceiling. Sometimes I watch my daughter shuffle around in her sleep, flinging her arms, slamming her legs down; she’s a restless sleeper. I wonder what she’ll be saying about me in twenty years. Will I look as bad in her eyes as my dad does in mine? Am I correcting his mistakes with my daughter? I have been pushing myself to the edge of my physical and mental capabilities, trying to be everything I ever wanted in a parent…that is, not like him. Smiley, happy, stable, constantly making eye contact, reassuring her to prevent fear. Always holding her, even when my back and knees are worn out for the day and I stumble down the stairs. I never let her go. I deny myself food and drink so that I won’t have to leave her for a minute; so I won’t disturb her sleep after she nurses; so she doesn’t cry. I wear myself out keeping her from crying; I can’t bear it, it breaks my heart. I make funny faces at her when I want to cry; take her out for a walk when I want to hide under the bedcovers. I want her life to be all about her. And inside of me, I want life to be all about me. Sometimes I feel resentment—I want to be the baby, to be taken care of in this way. I wish I were the taker instead of the giver. But I had my turn, years ago, even if I feel ripped off of a childhood.

But I want my daughter to be happy in a way I wasn’t. Despite my inner jealousy and resentment over giving her everything I never had (and how odd that sounds!), I want for her to desire to be here and to be free. And if I do that, I’ll have done my job here on this earth. I keep thinking about my deathbed, when my life is done, and I am relieved because I will have no regrets. For the first five months of her life, at the very least, I have been the parent I wanted to have. I have set down a strong foundation for her to stand upon, thanks be to God.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

A Mother's Day Tribute

 The entire process of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum came as a shock. I was not prepared. I did not know the harsh truth about the earthiness of the process, the physicality of it, the discomfort and pain. These things are closely guarded secrets and perhaps I am breaking the womanly code of silence by admitting I was thoroughly miserable during this supposed best time of my life, but I do believe, in retrospect, I would have coped better had I understood the realities. As it was and still is, I struggle with anger, fear, and resentment, along with an overwhelming sense of trauma. Don't get me wrong, I adore my child and do not regret bringing her into the world, which amazes me after "suffering" a Western, medicalized birth, but that is the POWER of a mother's love, a God-given gift indeed.

The idea of passing along a genetic and experiential heritage was a huge factor in my decision to play "Russian roulette" with my fertility at this stage of my life. Most influential in my thinking was my father-in-law's struggle with an extremely quick and debilitating form of Parkinson's disease. We had waited nearly twenty years to reproduce, thinking we would all live forever and reproduction really wasn't a priority in any case. Now that I seem how much my daughter looks so like her grandfather, it humbles me to have thought that way. To see his pleasure and curiosity the past two days has made me realize how precious and crucial are the physical sacrifices women make in carrying and birthing their children. The reward, it seems to me, is after the birth; way after the whole affair is done and over with. And I still don't feel that happy yet, mostly due to suffering a nasty case of postpartum depression consisting of suicidal thoughts and a deep blackness that an extra twenty mg of Prozac only helps to part. But when I see my husband with his daughter, how he coos over her and his face lights up, and my parents- in-law's smiles and eagerness to accept this child, I feel that my suffering was worthwhile--undoubtedly the most worthwhile action I have ever taken. I wish I could FEEL more, though; I am still numb and walk in a fog, but it hit me over the weekend that what I have done will live on long after me, and will carry my daughter's grandfather's and her father's physical and spiritual legacy on long after they have passed. In this, I feel more spiritually at peace than I ever have.

God bless all mothers for the pain they have suffered and the sacrifices they have made to ensure the legacies of their loved ones carry on. Amen.