Saturday, December 29, 2007

Journal entries from the beginning of my PPD hell

These are some journal entries I wrote during the beginning of my PPD struggles. I haven't edited them... Please note, I usually consider "Crappy" to be a swear word... so please pardon the profanity in this post... it shows you how "not myself" I was at this point in motherhood.

Email from 3.28.06 (Evan is 6 weeks old)

Ben came home tonight at 8:30, 12 hours after he left this morning, and took him from me so I could eat dinner and read the sleep book. I tried going in to talk with him about how frustrated I am, but we’re on totally different wave lengths, and somehow, trying to talk with him just doesn’t help these days.

I asked him if he was having fun, and he said, “Yes, I am.” Great, that’s because he only has to deal with Evan for 3 hours out of the day. Try 24. I told him I wasn’t having fun, and he gave me a look. I feel like I’m totally letting him down, because I’m not supermom, and because I’m not having fun. I never wanted to be a mom. I still don’t want to be a mom, but I don’t feel like I can tell anyone this. And yet I’ve got this baby here who isn’t going to go away, and my identity is completely gone now. All I’ve been identified with for the past 6 weeks has been a mom, and it’s not an identity that I want.

We went to a mommy&baby movie today, and we only saw 10 minutes of it, while he was breastfeeding. The rest of the time he was crying, and I couldn’t calm him down. I’m too nervous to take him anywhere, because I feel like he’s going to fuss the whole time, and I won’t be able to calm him down. That doesn’t help the new mom feelings of inadequacy.

The worst part is that I don’t have anyone to talk to about this. The other moms I know all are happy with being moms. At least that’s how they appear on the outside. I can’t talk with families about it because I don’t want to look like a terrible parent. I just can’t identify with that word, “parent.” It’s not something that I associate myself with yet. I’m sure I will, but right now, I don’t. I feel like a fraud, someone who’s pretending to like something that causes her frustration and stress.

I don’t look forward to waking up in the morning anymore because the days are so long and lonely and tiring. I don’t look forward to going to bed at night because I know I won’t get good sleep. My incision hurts, my stomach is flabby, I don’t get any quality time with my husband anymore, I haven’t had a good bowel movement in weeks, I’m totally exhausted, I can’t work out, my nipples hurt, my house is disorganized. Having a baby doesn’t cancel those things out.

I am too selfish to have a baby. I want to go back to the time when I was able to do things for ME.

March 2006

It’s now 1:00 a.m. and I’m not asleep. Even though Evan is asleep. Why? This is f*cking killing me, that my baby is asleep now, and yet I can’t sleep. I’m too worked up to sleep… I want to act like Evan. I want to scream, yell, throw a temper tantrum. I know what he feels like when he’s too tired. I know what it’s like.

I wish someone could explain to my husband that it’s normal to have a weepy, emotional, unconfident wife for the first few months. We’re having a tough time talking through this stuff, which is rare for us. Of course, trying to do it while there’s a baby crying in the same room… or when you’re going on 5 hours sleep… doesn’t help. He’s thrilled to have Evan, and he has always looked at fatherhood as something totally fun. Whereas, I dreaded motherhood, and I’m not having the ‘fun’ that he claims to be having. So, he just doesn’t get where I’m coming from. Don’t know if he ever will. I tried telling him how I was feeling last night, and he didn’t say anything in response… which didn’t help matters.

I wish other moms would talk about it – everyone seems to have everything under control, and no one talks about having any trouble… so it seems taboo to even mention it. You know me, though… I’ll bring it up, no matter what. I need to tell people what’s going on – it’s the only thing that gets me through tough times. But, it’s been weird with this… It’s very lonely. I’ve been feeling this way pretty much since I got pregnant, since I wasn’t ready to be a mom when Evan decided to show up, and he was a surprise… I feel like I’m still trying to adjust to everything… and after losing my pre-baby identities… and then assuming this new mom identity that I don’t’ feel ready for, and frankly, don’t feel good at yet… all while having a C-section which feels like a total violation of my body and spirit… it’s just a lot to deal with. Add to the fact that I’m not able to really eat well, drink lots of water, work out, sleep, run my business, have quality time with my husband, feel the skin above my pubic area, touch my breasts without wincing, wear my old clothes, do the things I want to do… and I guess it all makes sense.


I want to drive away and not come back. I am sick and tired of being the only source of food for my child. Evan is hungry yet AGAIN tonight, and my nipples are sore and tired, and I don’t want to feed him. It’s almost midnight and he’s supposed to be asleep. Ben asked me to get the bottle for him, but I don’t want to, because that was supposed to feed him tonight, so I could finally get a night of full rest.

Today I didn’t get anything done. Nothing. I didn’t even get to write an email. I didn’t get to any of the things that I had down on my list. All I did was try to entertain Evan and keep him from crying, and the only way I can keep him from crying is to feed him. He was the only kid in mommy dance class today who was crying. All the other kids were sitting there being alert and happy, and he cried through the entire second half. Again, the only way I could keep him calm was to feed him. I guess that answers the question of whether or not I’m going to sign up for the class. Why would I pay money to sit there and breastfeed Evan during a class?

I need more free time. A lot more. Alice came today for a little over an hour, and basically I got to shower (didn’t have time to dry my hair), make some soup from a box, get the stupid vinegar solution ready for Evan, and then my time was up. Great. What a wonderful relief time for me. What the f*ck? Showering, eating… those are necessary things for survival. Yet, I don’t even have time to do those on a regular basis. I didn’t get to take a shit today either… f*cking Evan is making me constipated, and that’s NOT cool at all. It makes me really pissed off. I worked so hard to get my stupid bowels working, and the birth and everything that has happened afterward screwed it all up again.

I want to be able to be away from him for 12 hours, and have a LIFE again. I have no life. And I don’t see how my life is ever going to come back. I’m sick of wearing stupid shirts to hide my stupid huge ass nursing bras. I’m sick of treating this f*cking thrush. I’m sick of hearing him cry. Why won’t he stop crying?

There are people who want to work with me, and I can’t work with them, because I’m stuck at home all day trying to keep a baby from crying. This is NOT what my brain was meant to do. I wish my life could go back to the way it was.

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