I Was Never Crazy

'I'm not crazy, I'm just a little un-well;
I know, right now, you can't tell,
but soon enough you'll think of me and how I used to be. Me.
....All night, hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep,
because tomorrow might be good for something.
.....Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown,
and I don't know why.......' MatchBox 20----2003

That song was like an anthem of mine when I was going through my PPD. I knew I wasn't crazy, but I also knew I wasn't well. I also didn't feel like myself, and couldn't figure out how I was going to get back to me. The truth was, as I later found out, that there was no going back. No way to go back to life before a baby. You know. SLEEPING whenever you want, staying up late without a care in the world, or eating, going to the bathroom based on need and not based on convenience. I.e., the little bugger is now taking a nap, so I can go to the bathroom by myself and not have to watch the toilet paper being off the roll, or things being taken out of drawers that DO indeed have safety latches on them, but no longer work. Okay, back to the topic at hand. I learned there was a new me that needed to be formed, and it was hard to admit. Hard to admit that life ain't never goin' be the same again.

In many ways I was glad my life was different. I felt so much more purpose, at times, with being a mom. I definetly have an easier time standing up for myself. Oh, and I always have a shopping buddy. Steve is my buddy. At times I look at him and can't believe I had a hand in creating this beautiful child. More days than not, I feel I'm doing a pretty good job mothering him. Not perfect by any means, and some days I am filled with guilt, but more and more I feel I'm doing OK. And now...... I am having a second child. As happy, excited, and personally thrilled as I am about having this child, I must admit I am scared to death. You know, feeling that the waters finally got calm, and now I'm about to stir them all up again.

I am scared that maybe this time I will go crazy. I know my doctor said I will be on meds. right away this time, unlike last time, but I am terribly scared of my PPD returning. Scared to death. Seriously scared to death. Scared of losing myself again. I am a type A personality, and need to have control over my life, and as we all know, that is not possibe in the weeks following a child's birth. I hate surgery. I AM glad I'm having a c-section for many reasons, but I detest the way I feel the first week after having surgery. This will be my fourth surgery, and I have hated them all. I am not a wimp, I just hate feeling so achy and tired, and well, out of it. Oh, and this time I will have TWO children to take care of. Yikes! I know I can and will be able to do it after I've healed from the surgery, and if my baby doesn't cry ALL THE TIME like Steve did until he was three months old. Oh, wait. How likely is it that that will happen? To be honest, I started loving being a mom at about the three month mark. I also am not looking forward to using that baby carrier again, HEAVY, and holding onto an energetic toddler at the same time. I remember saying that my back always hurt when Steve was a baby, he was heavy, but just how bad will my back feel when I am taking care of two kids?

More than most of that, I am worried about how I will take giving birth to a child my mother will never see. She was my rock through my PPD. For example, I was giving Steve a bath EVERY night when he was a newborn. It was exhausting; he hated it, I hated it. Then I would read him a book before putting him down. I am here to tell you that babies that are only a few weeks old, don't particularly care for books. It was awful. I was putting so much pressure on myself to be the 'perfect' mother that I was miserable. Anyway, I was talking to my mom the next day, telling her about 'our routine'. My mother immediately said to me, "Bev, he is only two weeks old. You don't need to have a routine now." I know it doesn't sound like much, and if someone else said it I would not have believed it, but when my mom said it I immediately felt a sense of relief. If the queen of routine says it's too early for one, it must be. I can't tell you how much that helped. She told me I was putting too much pressure on myself. That I needed to let some things go. And she was right. Who will tell me that this time? I know myself. I will do the same thing this time, but in a different way. And I know I will struggle to make sure I'm treating my boys equally, which I don't believe you can always do.

So as my due date gets closer, I start worrying more. And I feel guilty about how much change Steve is going to be encountering and he doesn't even know it; doesn't have a say in it. I worry about him WANTING a sibling like I used to worry about him not HAVING one, and being angry about that. I guess I still have my fair share of guilt to work through. But I'm not crazy, and I hope I won't be in May.