Category: Life in general

Categories
Life in general PPD

Raw and Unfiltered

Dear Heather,

I just re-read the email I sent you earlier, and it made my face burn with shame.  I didn’t say anything I set out to say.  As I read, all I could see were the excuses I made for my postpartum depression.  The things that made it “acceptable”.  And while all of the things I wrote are true, they are not what you need to hear.  Reading that made me realize that I am still so afraid of my depression, and of what I fear it says about me as a mother.

Rather than tell you the logistics of my situation, I wanted to tell you how I felt.  About my fears and anxiety.  I wanted you to not just see my words, but say to yourself as you read, “I am not alone”.  Because you aren’t.

Even though I felt alone every hour of the day as I went through PPD, in truth there were many people around me who knew I wasn’t myself.  They seemed so far away, though, as if I were on the other side of a deep chasm. 

I felt so ungrateful.  I had just knocked on death’s door and lived to tell about it, yet there was no happiness, no joy.  People would say, “You are so blessed!” and I would nod my head emphatically, because I knew it was true.  But I didn’t feel blessed.  I felt burdened. 

More than anything, I was afraid.  Horrible thoughts went through my head.  At times I felt resentful of other people’s happiness.  My own sweet baby that I tried so hard to have, irritated me when she needed to be cared for.  I went through the motions, meeting her needs, but my heart wasn’t in it.

Every day, I felt helpless.  Every task overwhelmed me.  I read books as often as I could, because they allowed me to escape my mind, if only for a little while.  My family and friends would ask me if I was OK, and I always said things new mothers say – I’m just tired, I’m so in love with the baby, Life is Good.  I put on a mask and pretended my way through my life.

I was terrified of what they would think of me if they knew what kind of darkness reached way down deep into my very soul.  I fantasized about leaving, because I thought my family would be better off without me.  Because I felt incapable of being a good mother, a good wife.  I felt like I was failing at every part of my life, with no end in sight.

But the end came, Heather.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel.  You have to search for it, ask directions.  There’s no sense wandering around in the dark when people are there, just beyond the bend, and all you have to do is reach out to them.  They are there to catch you, to build you a bridge across the chasm, to show you the way. 

I am so proud of you for reaching.

I pray you clap your hands, right along with Maddie and Mike, and mean it with all your heart.

Be Well,

Andrea

Categories
Life in general Marriage

The One

Jeremy and I dated for five years before we got married.  There were a lot of reasons behind the decision to wait.  One of them was a statement I made when we had been dating for about a year, that I didn’t want to get married until I was done with college.  Did I know it would take me a full seven years to get my degree?  No, I did not. 

But it worked out for the best.  Our relationship wasn’t ready until then.  Don’t get me wrong, we knew we loved each other.  We even knew we wanted to spend our lives together.  We just… weren’t ready for the big leagues. 

I have young women ask me fairly often how I knew Jeremy was “the one” for me.  It’s not an easy answer, but it starts with the way I felt about myself when I was around him, even before we started dating.  As our relationship progressed, it became a question of whether or not our core beliefs could not only survive together, but flourish. 

One thing I always try to point out is that people don’t change who they are.  Their behaviors can waiver, certainly, but even those change only with hard work or a major life event (or both).  Communication is so important.  Many people say that, because it’s true.  The way someone communicates (or doesn’t) can make or break a relationship.

Over the last ten years, we’ve grown our relationship to be what it is.  It didn’t happen over night, we worked to create a cohesive marriage.  We’ve found that we love each other more now than we did in those early times, more than when we got married, even, mainly because of our growth together. 

Does he still leave his stinky socks on the bathroom floor?  Occasionally.  But it doesn’t bother me, because he kisses my neck while I do the dishes.  He listens to what I have to say.  When I’m hormonal, he treats me with extra tenderness.  He enjoys my company and would rather be with me than hanging out in a bar.  But that’s now. 

Good relationships don’t just happen.  And even the best of them go through rough times.  It won’t always be smooth sailing, but you’ve got to work to get to those calm waters.  You must appreciate, enjoy, love each other every day, even when you’d rather not.

Categories
Life in general Parenting

Brutally Honest Monday: The Sibling Rivalry Edition

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When I found out via ultrasound that we were having a second girl, I actually cried.  I envisioned the fights and the hatred and all the ways it would be difficult for me to show each of my daughters that they are special, and have them believe me.

I promised myself I wouldn’t play favorites.  But then, as is often the case, it’s easier to do in theory than in practice.  I don’t play favorites with my love – that is unconditional.  But what I’ve come to realize is that each of them is going to go through phases of their lives where they are just more desirable to be around. 

Right now, at 14 months, Blythe is in the most amazing stage where her personality is blossoming.  Every day she emerges a little more, and I want to eat her up.  Toward the end of each day I think Alison might backhand me if I say, “Look!  Your sister is…” one more time.  I can’t help it, because she’s just so stinkin’ cute, and most of the time there’s no one else around to elbow.

It’s not that Blythe is my favorite child, per se.  It’s just that I’d rather watch her shake her booty or hear her say, “Tane-choo!” (thank you) than be bossed around by an eye-rolling four year old who has no patience.

Alison has many, many redeeming qualities.  More than I could possibly count.  But at this very moment in their lives, it’s Blythe’s turn.  I’m sure as Blythe learns how to throw temper tantrums and refuse to nap, Alison will step right back into the limelight.  

OK, so I admit, I have a favorite.  Today.  Tomorrow, it may change.  All I can hope is that they each get their fare share of time to shine.  And hey, Alison has a whole 3 1/2 years of being the constant favorite saved up.  That should count for something, right?

If you are a parent, do you feel the same way, or are you Even-Steven with all your kids?

* Edited to add:  Lest anyone think Alison is treated like the red-headed step child around here, let me just say there’s no way.  She’s my partner in crime, and I spend more time playing with her than doing anything else. *

Categories
Life in general The Style Section

Thrift Store Chic, Perhaps?

Once upon a time, there was a girl who struggled to infuse her style into her surroundings.  You might call her home decor eclectic bohemian, if you were being nice.  When she grew up, the girl who became a young woman married a handsome man, whose style could be called frugal western.  Together, they filled their home with two lifetimes worth of bargains. 

The young woman strongly desired a home that looked cohesive, yet she had no idea how to create such a space.  She studied home design books and watched endless hours of DIY programming.  She was pitied by many of her close friends, who were born with incredible taste.  They took her to fabulous home stores like Pottery Barn (go ahead and drool over the chair you see there – I certainly did) and Z Gallerie and Expo and even her beloved Target.  Finally, the young woman knew what she liked: a style that did not scream, “USED!”. 

The problem became clear at once: The Salvation Army did not seem to carry items from the likes of those stores.  Instead, it housed items from places that end in -Mart, and the woman refrained from purchasing them.  Slowly, she accumulated items that she hoped would transform her home into a place with a more beautiful aesthetic, while maintaining her own personal style.

Behold, readers, the one place in her home the woman is proud of having created:


The base of the table is made from an old Singer treadle sewing machine.  The top is cultured marble.  No one could have been prouder to discover this at a yard sale for a mere $25.  It inspires the woman every day to continue in her quest to surround herself in frugal loveliness.  Especially since this is but one small area of her home.

Come along as she creates, and critique at will.

Categories
Kids Life in general woops

Confessions

Let’s talk a little bit about guilt.  I don’t mean the O.J. Simpson kind of guilt, but the kind you carry around with you.  Self-imposed guilt, let’s call it.

I’ve got a bit of it knocking around.  Occasionally it will rear its ugly head, and I’ll have to do something to rectify the guilt so as to loosen the knot in the pit of my belly.  Guilt can be an ugly, ugly thing if it’s left to its own devices. 

Take, for example, this ugliness:

that soon turned into this ugliness:


All from me tripping over my exercise ball back in February.  Which, I must say, I have always said came out of nowhere.  Let me assure you: no part of it was pretty, and my family had to look at me like that all day, every day, for weeks. 

I never talked much about how “the trip” came about, because I didn’t want my 4 year old to ever get the impression that it was somehow her fault.  That her getting out of bed repeatedly, and me having to go in there and take away her books, and thus walk around her room in the dark, was the cause of my fall.  And subsequently, the cause of the blood all over her floor, followed by her daddy cussing in front of her for the first time and her Mommy being rushed to the emergency room. 

Are you following? 

Yesterday, she walked up to me and said, “I’m sorry, Mommy.  I’m sorry I pushed the ball at you when I was mad, and I’m sorry you fell.”  

How heavy was the weight that came off of her tiny shoulders when she confessed?