Baby Blues Blow

So here's something I didn't think about when those two little pink lines showed up on the stick I peed on: I don't think my baby likes me. In fact, I'm pretty sure he likes the ceiling fan more than me and if it had boobs, he'd never give me a second thought. What's more, I'm not so sure I like him either. Don't get me wrong, I love Charlie. There are times when I look at him and feel so blessed, but that is usually when he is sleeping which is painfully rare. In fact, as I type this he is working on hour two of his protest and I am closer to falling asleep than he is. Adding to my current disposition is the headache that has resulted in the combination of not sleeping, listening to him cry and my own episodes of tearfulness.

Every pregnancy book you'll ever read will include a chapter about post-partum depression. It's pretty common and in fact, I suffered from it when I had Mumbles, although at the time I had no idea. I read all about it and how to avoid it and what to do if you feel the 'Baby Blues' hitting a little too hard. I know I need to eat well, drink plenty of water and exercise. I know all of that but how am I supposed to exercise when some days it's all I can do to brush my teeth? How do I eat well when I'm lucky to be able to feed myself at? How do I ask for help when all I want to do is hide in a closet somewhere dark and quiet?

I'm six weeks in and this is supposed to be getting easier, right? Life at home with Charlie is like waiting tables. Most of the time it's not a terribly stressful job but its not like other jobs where you get regular breaks to eat or put your feet up. Every moment that you aren't working is stolen and your few breaks are under constant threat of interruption. Then there are the Friday and Saturday night dinner rushes. It's then you feel as though you are just treading water and that at any moment you'll see the surface just above your head as you sink into oblivion. Don't stop, don't think, just keep treading. People in the restaurant business call it being 'in the weeds'. Then the rush is over and you are spent. That is what life is like with Charlie, only instead of working an 8 or 10 hour shift with a day off here and there, I'm on 24-7 and right now, I'm in the weeds.

After numerous exasperated phone calls to Micha at all hours of the day and night and the briefest talk with my best-friend that I believe we've ever had, I've decided I need to call the Doctor and talk with her about PPD. It's hard to admit that I'm not enjoying my maternity leave, especially when it is so close to being over. It's even harder to admit that I'm looking forward to spending time away from my baby. Guilt and hormones are a terrible combination, like cheap tequila and buffet line sushi.