Deep breath, one thing at a time.

20 07 2011

***Something weird has happened to this post during publishing and part of it is missing. I think I have fixed it now and it makes a bit more sense! It is still double spacing the paragraphs which brives me bonkers but that will just have to stay that way for now***

I have started this post a few times, once I even bashed out two paragraphs but I keep hitting the delete button.

It is not that I don’t know what I want to say, it is just that I don’t know where to start, or how to say it.

So I have 14 minutes until I need to make Kate’s feed and I am just going to write. To try and get everything out of my brain and onto the page in the hope that it will empty the whirlwind that is my brain at the moment and give me a chance to get some rest. If the children let me that is.

Things are hard. My suspicions were correct and the doctor agrees that I have Postnatal Depression. Tablets have been prescribed and I am now just trying to come to terms with what this means and how I feel. How to tell people. I don’t want to hide it from people but it is hard to admit. My mum, bless her wonderful soul, has been fabulous. I wish she was here to hold my hand through this but I will see her in a few weeks so I can look forward to that. She worries I know, and part of me wants to keep her from it as I know how frustrating it is when you live somewhere else and cannot help. She cheers me up instead with long rambling telephone calls in the middle of the day where we talk about everything and nothing.

My husband is an amazing man. He is here and helping and just getting me through each day. I love him for that. He works hard and still does his share when he gets home. I know how lucky I am.

The hardest thing by far this week is a sudden reluctance on Kate’s part to be held when she feeds. She no longer wants to be cuddled up next to me to have her bottle. She will scream and scream and struggle instead. It is so horrible and frustrating and heartbreaking. She will drink lying in her chair, in the car seat, and lying flat on her back in the cot. I’m actually devastated about it. Why does she not want to be held? The only thing that has stopped this from tipping me over the edge is that she is the same with Mr C as well.

She is calming down otherwise though and if you take feeding out of the equation things are getting much easier. She loves to sit up on my lap, looking at me and having a conversation. She makes a ‘huh’ noise over and over which is her little laugh and smiles away.

I know it is a cliche but you really do forget what having a small baby is like. At least I know I have. I keep saying that Kate cries so much more than Piran ever did, and that I am finding it so much harder this time, then I went back and read the post I wrote to Piran when he turned three months old. This paragraph struck a chord.

People say you have a cute face. I agree, although I am biased. You have a cheeky grin that melts my heart and when you cling on to my hand as I feed you my heart overflows with love for you. You frustrate me too, when you will not nap during the day and you get upset and cry and cry and will not let me soothe you. Whatever we do you cry for most of the last hour before bed, but occasionally we can get a smile.

I know that we will look back with nothing but love and fondness for the small girl who has turned our world upside down. For now I just need to take a deep breath and tackle one thing at a time.

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