Today was a very rough one, as sometimes they are when you're a mother: I have my gorgeous baby girl who needs me to be at her becking call, of course...and don't get me wrong, it is the most rewarding job anybody could ever have; though, it is often times overwhelming. I am also a full-time college student at Lewis-Clark State College, and against the advice of my parents, numerous professors, and my advisor, I have fifteen credits--all online. My husband works in the woods ten to fifteen hours a day, so most everything (housework, baby, meals, family, shopping and bills) is left upon my shoulders while he struggles to make money to keep us afloat.
I hope you don't think of me as whining, I just want to get out onto paper the way I sometimes feel that nobody knows except me. I am shot. At my last doctor appointment my OBGYN diagnosed me with Postpartum Depression, which roughly affects about 25 percent of women.
The worst part about the depression is the way I relate my stress to my husband; I take it out on him, I get irrate with him for no reason, and I feel secluded from him. My daughter sometimes weighs on me like a burden, which breaks my heart, because she is the most precious thing in my life, and I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. I talked to an older woman I know recently about it, and she helped to put things into perspective for me. She said that when she had her children from her first husband that she, too fell deep into a depression. The difference here, however, was that her husband was abusive and cruel, calling her fat and lazy, punching her in the face and cowering over her as she curled up in a corner. She stood up each time, dusted herself off, and took care of her magnificent babies.
When finally she gathered the courage to leave this man, three years after the birth of her second daughter, the clouds seemed to disperse and she again flourished like she once had. She met her new husband, Wayne, and he supported her and showered her in the long-lost love she knew she did deserve. Eileen is her name, and she was on Prozac for three whole years before her symptoms cleared up.
My doctor has me on the same medication, and I am happy to have realized that I truly am blessed to have a husband who ceaselessly supports me, loves me and would swim through a river of alligators to be by my side (his words not mine). When I feel like all of the school, all of the stress and pressure is too much, I should know that I can ALWAYS turn to my Ian and tell him how I'm feeling. And if that doesn't work, I can come right here, and spill my heart out through my fingertips for anyone who cares to read!
Life is tough. Life is beautiful. Life is stress. Life is pleasure. Life is tragic. Life is magnificent.
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