I have a beautiful, healthy baby.
It'd be really easy to just post pictures of her and pretend life is shiny and perfect. It's easy to only mention the funny ancedotes and happy moments and allow everyone else to fill in the blanks with visions of a well adjusted mom who has finally reached her calling in life.
But why do I have to lie?
Because I'm afraid you'll quit reading? Possibly. But people listen to horribly depressing songs all the time. Because I'm afraid to admit I'm not perfect? Perhaps. Doesn't everyone want to be the person who makes it all seem easy. Because I am too prideful? Obviously. I only have one kid, and a supportive husband and my pride tells me that I am extremely capable of taking care of a baby.
And yet...
I feel like I'm falling apart. I feel defeated... by a cute (not so chubby) 8 lb baby girl.
I can't say that there's been one thing to tip me over the edge. It's everything. The three 2 hour bouts of sleep because of nighttime feedings that are supposed to get me from day to day are definitely catching up with me. The physical pain that typically begs a few days rest to recover, which will never happen. The heartbreak of that ;ittle quivering bottom lip when I can't figure out what my baby needs followed by desperation to make the crying stop. The inability to stay on top of chores, which equals a dirty home and is not helping with the lack of peace in my life. The exhaustion that compels me to collapse whenever possible, verses the need to stay on top of daily tasks and needs such as bathing and eating. The guilt of not doing anything to meet Cary's needs, when he's the only thing getting me from day to day.
And then of course there is my body image--i place way too much value on my appearance. The philosophy it took 9 months to gain the weight, it'll take time to lose it doesn't comfort me. My previously flat sculpted stomach from hours of concentrated workouts is now in a sad state of shriveled excess skin and stretch marks that no amount of ab workouts will ever make look half as good as helen mirren in a bikini. Nothing fits, which often crushes all resolve to get out and pull myself out of this rut. I pull the fat pants back on and one of Cary's t-shirts and allow myself to stay in all day.
If I could change even one thing would it be enough? I don't know. I suppose the only therapy I could come up with was to get it off my chest. So here it is.
Please don't feel the need to come to my rescue.
Like the title says "it's easier to lie." Ah, the weird quirk of my generation. We'll post our darkest feelings on the internet, but if you ask us point blank, we'll lie.
I have a case of the baby blues. Perhaps, I just needed to write it down so I remember what to expect next time.
Despite it all,
Let's just say,
I'm not so down that I don't still thank the heavens every day that I'm no longer pregnant!
Oh and for those who just look for pictures (I know you do mom, it's ok :) Here's a little humor to sum it all up.
It'd be really easy to just post pictures of her and pretend life is shiny and perfect. It's easy to only mention the funny ancedotes and happy moments and allow everyone else to fill in the blanks with visions of a well adjusted mom who has finally reached her calling in life.
But why do I have to lie?
Because I'm afraid you'll quit reading? Possibly. But people listen to horribly depressing songs all the time. Because I'm afraid to admit I'm not perfect? Perhaps. Doesn't everyone want to be the person who makes it all seem easy. Because I am too prideful? Obviously. I only have one kid, and a supportive husband and my pride tells me that I am extremely capable of taking care of a baby.
And yet...
I feel like I'm falling apart. I feel defeated... by a cute (not so chubby) 8 lb baby girl.
I can't say that there's been one thing to tip me over the edge. It's everything. The three 2 hour bouts of sleep because of nighttime feedings that are supposed to get me from day to day are definitely catching up with me. The physical pain that typically begs a few days rest to recover, which will never happen. The heartbreak of that ;ittle quivering bottom lip when I can't figure out what my baby needs followed by desperation to make the crying stop. The inability to stay on top of chores, which equals a dirty home and is not helping with the lack of peace in my life. The exhaustion that compels me to collapse whenever possible, verses the need to stay on top of daily tasks and needs such as bathing and eating. The guilt of not doing anything to meet Cary's needs, when he's the only thing getting me from day to day.
And then of course there is my body image--i place way too much value on my appearance. The philosophy it took 9 months to gain the weight, it'll take time to lose it doesn't comfort me. My previously flat sculpted stomach from hours of concentrated workouts is now in a sad state of shriveled excess skin and stretch marks that no amount of ab workouts will ever make look half as good as helen mirren in a bikini. Nothing fits, which often crushes all resolve to get out and pull myself out of this rut. I pull the fat pants back on and one of Cary's t-shirts and allow myself to stay in all day.
If I could change even one thing would it be enough? I don't know. I suppose the only therapy I could come up with was to get it off my chest. So here it is.
Please don't feel the need to come to my rescue.
Like the title says "it's easier to lie." Ah, the weird quirk of my generation. We'll post our darkest feelings on the internet, but if you ask us point blank, we'll lie.
I have a case of the baby blues. Perhaps, I just needed to write it down so I remember what to expect next time.
Despite it all,
Let's just say,
I'm not so down that I don't still thank the heavens every day that I'm no longer pregnant!
Oh and for those who just look for pictures (I know you do mom, it's ok :) Here's a little humor to sum it all up.
