Now as I have mentioned before I have been struggling through my third bout of postpartum depression. I am on medication this time and it has made a HUGE difference (I did my last bout drug-free and regret it now). But some days are definitely harder than others. Some days I feel fine and almost normal. Then other days I get up and the entire day is a struggle to drag myself up out of the pit.
Of course the medication I am on (Paxil for those interested in that sort of thing) makes the lows much easier to handle- I haven't wanted to hurt myself or my children or anyone else this time. Unless you have ever experienced it you can't know what a relief it is to not fear that you will hurt your kids.
And I do feel like God is helping me through this - just like He helped me after my last two kids considering that I DID want to hurt myself and my kids and I DIDN'T. That is a miracle people.
Before my first battle with postpartum depression I could never understand what could possibly make a parent want to hurt their child. Now I get it. When you are in the midst of postpartum depression you aren't thinking clearly. I personally think Satan uses these bouts of hormonal imbalance to really screw with people's minds. He whispers lies to them to make them believe all sorts of false things- like my kids hate me, they'd be better off without me, they are crying on purpose to drive me crazy, I don't love them or my husband... etc. etc. etc. Lies. All lies. But any woman who has ever experienced any sort of hormonal day knows that lies are pretty easy to believe when we are vulnerable.
Anyway, my point is that some days I just find it really hard to smile.
And my sons are especially sensitive. Owen today kept walking up to me and holding my hands or my face and smiling a really big smile at me until I would smile back. He needed to know I was ok and that I wasn't upset with him and still loved him. It reminded me that kids tend to blame themselves anytime anything is wrong in their world. He kept thinking I was down because he had done something wrong. Obviously that was not the case.
But really, how do you explain depression to a 3 year old?
And how do you carry on normally, playfully, happily, productively when you just feel like climbing back into bed?
I think even Olivia notices when I am not my best.
I love the sensitivity of children... most of the time. But sometimes I wish they could just be oblivious for awhile.
I also wish I was better at pulling myself up by the bootstraps so to speak.
But really, I can't even begin to tell you all how much better this third bout is compared to my first two. It is like I am a different person. I can talk to people. I can blog. I love my kids. I have great days. I am so glad I chose medication this time. It is worth gaining a few pounds to not be insane.