You know what is worse than someone asking you when you are due when you aren’t? Your four year-old asking a stranger if there is a baby in her belly, when there clearly is not.
It is almost a certainty that the universe was trying to teach me a lesson about wearing leggings as pants. I work in a business casual office with emphasis on business, but my boss was out of the office and her boss was out of the office. It was Wednesday morning and I would have preferred to pull the covers over my head and wear pajamas all day. Instead I rewarded my go-getterness (i.e. getting out of bed) with the decision to wear leggings to work.
This got to be too long of a post so I have broken it up into two parts. If you missed Part 1, it is here.
Medication put me in an uncomfortable fog, but quelled the voices. More importantly I started seeing a therapist weekly. Stephanie saved and changed my life. Our first session, I got to her windowless office waiting area and started crawling out of my skin. When she finally took me into her office, I told her that my ears were bleeding from the white noise and didn’t care about my privacy, but just wanted it to stop. God knows what we talked about for the next hour, but I walked out with blood shot eyes, a runny nose, and short of breath. In the following weeks, she started convincing me that I could do things I thought impossible: asking for help, building a support system, saying no, and practicing self-care.
This got to be too long of a post so I have broken it up into two parts.
Four years ago on a quiet Sunday night at home with three week old and toddler while my husband worked was the unknown beginning of my postpartum depression. The past three anniversaries of this day, I have wallowed in the blame I place on myself for not stopping it from happening. As women with similar stories have shared them with me, I saw that they were not to blame for the events that increased their risk of PPD. I have worked to forgive myself for the mistakes I made and accept that some things simply are not in my control. Having or not having PPD isn’t in anybody’s control… it is a terrible thing that happens. I share my story in hopes that it unlocks another woman from the prison of shame she feels about her PPD, as Candice did for me.
I made this ridiculous goal on November 23 that I would complete all of my Christmas shopping and wrapping before December 1. Never mind that my family was coming to stay with us for much of the week of Thanksgiving and my in-laws were all coming for Thanksgiving Day. You know, 8 house guests and then dinner for 22… no big deal, plus I was taking a day and a half of vacation.