After Tate was born, I was not at all prepared for any postpartum feelings. I had never had my emotions so far outside my control, and to be honest, it was a little scary.
Everyone experiences these feelings in a different way which can make it hard to pinpoint exactly what emotions are your own and what emotions are the postpartum beast wielding it’s ugly sword. It’s been almost seven months since he was born and about six since I proclaimed myself free of postpartum sadness. But guess what? It’s not true.
When I hear about PPD from other women, mostly they seem to talk about how hard it was for them to bond with their baby, or that they couldn’t care for it alone. Maybe that’s why I told myself I was getting off scott-free. Because my feelings are sort if the opposite.
My universe shifted. Tate is the sun and my world revolves around him (which I love, by the way). But sometimes it feels like there isn’t room for much of my pre-Tate self at the table. I don’t know how to be myself when he isn’t around. Some days I feel like taking care of him is the only thing I know how to do anymore.
I can hardly bring myself to blog over here, because before he was born, clothes were a passion of mine. I dreamed about shopping and shoes and I loved it. I have had such a hard time adjusting to dressing my post baby body, and dressing for motherhood instead of the office, and dressing for a tropical climate instead of a desert one. I look in my closet and I get lost.
Finding time to do things I enjoyed before I had Tate is completely impossible. I have only touched my sewing machine a handful of times in the past six months, and don’t see that changing any time soon.
Doing simple tasks cripples me. If I have to make a phone call to someone I don’t know, I put it off for days or weeks. I can’t bring myself to vacuum. It takes 5 minutes, but I just can’t do it.
Did any of you think you were out from under the baby blues, only to realize they had been with you all along. How did you deal with it? Because I’m stumped.