Navigating post partum depression
Post partum depression blows.
My first week after delivering Littler J was great. I naively thought I was in the clear, but it turns out post partum depression can strike days, weeks or even months after pregnancy. I was in its thrall moments after declaring myself victorious over it.
“Help” is remarkably hard to say for being a single word of only four letters. When it’s a struggle just to get through a single day of alternating numbness and frustration–Why am I not elated? I should be elated!–the mere thought of the exhausting conversation that might follow the word “help” is enough to push a gal into shutdown.
Some days are better than others. Yesterday was especially rough. Thanks to small conversations scattered throughout the day courtesy my persistent husband, it was a little less awful.
Then, thanks to a six-hour stretch of sleep by Littler J, I woke up feeling . . . almost like myself. Obnoxious as others might occasionally find me, I like myself.
It feels nice to feel like me.
I’m not so naive as to think I’ve reached the other side. Thanks to this reprieve, I can at least see the other side. Knowing it’s there, I’ll just keep stepping, keeping faith those steps will eventually lead me all the way there.