Monthly Archives: September 2012

Adjusting

Adjusting

Both Bonnie and Stevie got put down a notch on the totem pole in the household when Baby Evie showed up. They are our “Furkids” and we still love them lots, but the baby has taken up most of our energy.

Both of them had a hard time with it at first; not necessarily with Evie herself, but with the fact that “Mom” no longer could spend as much time with them, or sit with them for a hour, or play with them as much. Jared did what he could, but sometimes, they wanted me. Stevie went on a hunger strike for a month, where he ate about half of his normal intake. Bonnie decided to leave messes on the floor (even when we had let her out minutes before to do her thing outside!).

And then there was the fact that whenever Evelyn cried, Stevie would howl like a banshee. And developed stressed induced colitis 2 days after Jared went back to work full time and left me on my own with our three “kids”. (I won’t tell you the details of how we learned he had colitis, since it’s pretty gross, but I will admit I panicked.)

Anyways, so with all that said, things seem to be getting back into a rhythm. Evelyn is calm enough that we can spend some time with the dogs without her crying, and the dogs are calmer now that the baby isn’t such a novelty and so they don’t jump up as much on her. (“Oh, what’s that in your arms, Mom!? (Bounce) Did you bring us a TREAT?! (Bounce) Oh, no, it’s the mini person that hasn’t gone away yet. (Huff, slowly go back to wherever they were napping) Whatever.”)

Yesterday was a good reminder of the pattern that is emerging from the chaos. Everyone wanted loves, and everyone figured out a way to coexist on the couch together, where I got THIS picture:

It’s moments like this that I remember: Life is good.

September blues

September blues

Fall colors are usually warm colors- reds, oranges, yellows, and even browns, but this isn’t the case for everyone.

I’ve been struggling a lot this month. Not for any one reason. Many times, we’re quick to blame it on the baby. However, Evelyn is doing better every day. (She slept for SEVEN HOURS STRAIGHT last night, y’all. I got up and checked her breathing several times AND took her temperature this morning to make sure she was okay. I might do it again when she wakes up from this TWO HOUR nap she’s in the middle of. (And yes, I ended a sentence with a preposition. Check the rules; it’s actually okay to do.))

Back to my post.

I’ve touched on the fact I have depression on occasion here, and it goes up and down. It probably wouldn’t be a surprise to a few of you to know that I’ve been dealing with some postpartum depression since Evelyn was born. The first week, fueled on adrenaline, I was just so happy she was here. I couldn’t stop smiling. I thought maybe, just maybe, I would get lucky and not have the “baby blues”.

Then, as week #2 hit and Evelyn decided to start her 4-5 hour fits of screaming through  the night, it all came crashing down on me.  I would never, ever dream of doing anything to my daughter, even in the middle of one of her horrible fits, but I did not extend the same courtesy to myself. To put it simply, it was awful.

I muddled through it until around week 6 or so, when I had my postpartum appointment. I probably should have called sooner, but part of me kept hoping it would just go away. But of course, it didn’t. After taking a very obvious survey (With questions like, “I feel hopeless: 4-Always 3-Often 2-Occasionally 1-Never”… Then add up your “points” at the end, as if depression is your prize for the high scores! Go team!), my doctor and I took action to battle back the depression.

This also came around the same time we were able to positively diagnose Evie with acid reflux (hence the near-constant crying), and get her needed medicine, too. The end result- both Mom and baby were happier campers.

The past week or two, things have been going down a little more again. Evelyn has good days and bad days, but really, it’s more me than her.

Enter Dooce.com. I love this blog. Besides having a particular brand of humor I find both refreshing and irreverent, I have really identified with her because of her struggle with depression. There’s such a stigma associated with having depression, or any sort of “mental illness”, in our society, that we often ignore the problem or feel incredibly alone because we are all reluctant to share our experiences for fear of judgement. Despite the criticism, Heather of Dooce shares anyway. In reading her blog today, I came across this post, “Remember it tomorrow morning” I wanted to share because of the helpful reminder to me.

Basically, more people end up depressed and/or commit suicide in the months of September and March. Blame it on the rapidly changing light from the sun jumbling up our already messed up brain circuits. So, if you are feeling down, and you can’t quite put your finger on it, it could be this.

Sometimes just knowing is the difference between going crazy, or having a problem and being able to put together a game plan to get it under control.

Dog Shaming

Dog Shaming

If you have not visited this website, you should really do so now. If you are a dog person, you will totally get it. If you are not a dog person, you will probably still get a lot of laughs anyways.

Here is a taste of what you are in for:

Basic Obedience fail.

 

I have a crayon addiction and I need help.

 

A quiet evening, and Mom starts asking “What is that… Oh goodness, did something DIE?”

Since I have been stuck inside with a two month old refusing to nap for more than 15-20 minutes at a time, I needed to see this today. 🙂

I still remember.

I still remember.

Some people compare it to the moment they learned JFK was assassinated–so many little details of the day are burned into your memory years later. I remember exactly what I was doing as the second plane hit, when the towers fell. The emotions are still vivid enough to bring tears to my eyes when I think about the chaos of the day mixed in with wonderful stories of sacrifice, and of people banding together and taking care of one another.

Eleven years later, and I still remember.