mommy dearest has ppd

While a woman is pregnant, she is often treated delicately and with some level of respect. Some might even say she is showered with love and affection. Complete strangers offer her their seats on the bus, or open doors for her. Suddenly, everyone has a story, or some tidbit of childrearing advice that they've got to share, and always with a smile. Almost daily, someone will tell her that she's glowing, or say how beautiful she is with her large, life-giving belly. And she is. But the time will soon come, when....

After the baby is born, the real fun begins. Overnight, you go from being everyone's darling to that sloppy, bumpy hausfrau, down the street with crusty-nosed, screaming brats dripping from every limb. Your children are seen as nothing short of an inconvenience by the rest of the world. Suddenly, your ability to parent is called into question. When strangers pass you on the street, they're quick to point out what you're doing "wrong". "Put a hat on that baby!" or, "He shouldn't be out in this weather!" "Its too hot." or "Its too cold." And, everyone has some quick, cutting remark about how you parent. Of course in their day, children were just more well-behaved. Didn't you know that the origins of all society's ills can be traced back to the day that their mothers forgot their little hats? It's true. Look it up.

In this country, we idolize the iconic image of "Mother" but live in a much harsher reality where the young, pre-partum woman is highly valued, if only as a sex object and the mother is used up and subsequently devalued. My friend once used some clever term for this, like "the maiden syndrome" or something. I can't remember exactly what words she used but they were more apt than mine.

We've all heard it before... talk of the "whiney mommy-bloggers" or criticism of mothering books which call motherhood by it's true name. Yes, I am honored to be a mother. No, I am not THRILLED to my bones at my exclusive privilege to scrub toilets, make beds, change poopy diapers and wash 10 loads of laundry a day, with little to no sleep and absolutely no thanks. And frankly, it's not the job that was advertised.

Perhaps worst of all, and as much as it disturbs me, I catch myself in the same attitude. I'd kill for a body like half the co-eds in this town... Yet, the first time someone walks down the street screaming at their kids, my first thought is, "what a terrible mother". It takes a minute for my brain to catch up, remembering those times when I've lost my temper, and smack that judgment straight out of the air.

Part of the problem, I think, is that no one realizes just how hard a mother works until she becomes one, herself. Even then, so many of us don't allow ourselves to acknowledge the full weight of the role. As a new mother, I was devastated by the reality of parenting an always-in-arms newborn, practically solo. I begged, I pleaded, I prayed, I cried (mostly in silence, of course) for someone to come and put my life back the way it was. I felt like I was falling apart, and the baby, the fruits of my labor, felt completely alien to me. I desperately wanted to connect but the hook-up never came.

Why didn't anyone ever tell me how hard it really was? Are we afraid to admit it to ourselves or is it something else? Is it just easier for everyone else? Maybe I'm the only one who found it so difficult to care for a newborn. I remember lots of people telling me how much infants sleep. I remember lots of stories about squishy-faced lumps but not a single story about infants that refused to be put down or babies that nursed 'round the clock with no breaks for days at a time. No one told me I'd have to wait till my husband came home, just to pee. Letting the baby cry alone was never an option for me.

None of this is to say that I am ungrateful for the gift that is my child, for I am. I just wish I had a better idea of what to expect.

I awoke from the daze of birthing my son (via unplanned c-section) to a slow, agonizing hell. There was no way I was ever going to do this without damaging his delicate little psyche and what's worse, I swore he hated me. From the time he awoke to the time he fell asleep every night, he glowered at me. Zane literally came out of me with an intense, relentless gaze. His eyes could burn tiny holes straight down to your soul. I swore he was in misery and I felt oceans of self-imposed blame. After all, if I were doing things correctly, he'd sleep all day, right? In all of those pregnancy and birthing books I read, not one of them mentioned this.

(That stare-down-thing, by the way, is something he still does with strangers, to this day.)

Unfortunately, I couldn't find a way to tell anyone how I felt. Those who were kind enough to call or visit only filled my ears with sweet nothings about motherhood. "Oh, isn't it wonderful? Isn't he beautiful? Aren't you lucky?" Yes, yes and yes, but I didn't have a minute to breathe, so I could hardly even notice. This only increased my guilt. I have to believe that those first 3 months would have gone much easier if someone had just warned me first.

So, there it is. My warning, if you will. If you are expecting, it may be hard to swallow, but know that I am coming only from a place of love. Though presently, I am pretty close to nirvana on most days, it's not all bunnies and kittens for all first-time moms. Those first few months are very tough for many. I hope you're of the bunch who has a good eater and great sleeper. I also hope that none of the other stuff is true for you. But if it is, know that you're not alone, my friend. No, your not alone.