Letting My Guard Down

I guess its time for me to get real. And to be completely honest -- both with you, and with myself. I'm not the best Mom out there ... not even close to being in the top 100, I'm pretty sure. And it has nothing to do with me comparing myself to other moms. It has nothing to do with how much "school work" or creative play or arts and crafts I do with my kids. It has nothing to do with how many books I read to them every day. Or even how many hours I spend, completely tuned in, versus how many times I click on my phone to scroll through facebook or instagram for a few moments.


I'm not the best Mom because I haven't been really taking care of myself, and in the past week or so, more and more, I've finally come to realize this.


Things originally started shortly after I had S. I grew extremely irritable. I would lash out at my husband over really insignificant things, pick fights for no reason, and really keep my distance. I had no problem loving on my baby, and grew quite close to her, in fact, many thanks to nursing. Those quiet moments alone, her close to my beating heart, really showed me a love I had never known. And I'll always cherish those memories. But during the rest of the day, my patience was thin, at best. My interest in life around me was waning. I was slipping into a post-partum depression. Many people picture the mom who drowns her kids in the bathtub, or the one who screams and abuses her young baby as the mom with ppd. But that's not always the case. And wasn't for me, either.


I saw a doctor, and got things taken care of, and over time, was able to wean myself off the medication. I felt better. Life felt better. And I was able to be a better mom because of it. I'll never be ashamed, or shy to admit that I was in a funk. Amazingly, I can say that I never did have to deal with the same symptoms after L was born -- and I'm grateful for that.


But lately? I've noticed a lot of the same behaviors in myself. I'm withdrawn. Sure, I make it to the gym a couple times a week {where I keep to myself on the cardio machines} and I attend a twice-a-month MOPS group {where I've made friends, but kept them at arms length}. But I have less and less interest in life around me. And beside just that, I've been keeping my husband ... and my kids ... at arm's length. M and I coexist in the living room most evenings, him watching something I'm not remotely interested in, while I plug away on the computer. The kids play together most of the day, only crawling into my lap when they want a snuggle during cartoons, or to read a story.


My patience is at an all time low, and I find myself going from easy-going to easily-agitated in no time at all. I'm not the comforting, loving mom and wife I want to be -- and know I can be. The one I've been in the past. And that alone makes me sad. So as much as I was really hoping that 2014 would not be filled with doctors' appointments, I think there is one in particular that really needs to be made. A problem that needs to be addressed.

Life can be turned around -- you just have to take the first steps. So here's me: open, honest, raw. Admitting the problem, and getting off my butt to do something about it. Depression doesn't have to end you, if you don't let it.