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Baby Blues. Part Ten.

Baby blues rolled off the tongue smoother for me than the words: postpartum depression. The first time I heard the words I pushed back because who wants to identify with a disorder? I sure did not. Was I overwhelmed? yes. Anxiety? yes. Did I feel like I was a walking zombie emerged in baby puke? Yes. All while feeling like my husband wanted a schoolgirl. Yes. I wanted to be everything to everybody. Perfect. I wanted to lose my baby weight to feel like myself, which even with the help of a diet pill, I think my genetics from my mama played a big part in my "overnight" bounce back to my pre-baby weight. But- I took it way too far. I was dealing with a lot of stress from my marriage, newborns, and my inner demons of low self-esteem.

The funny thing about this time in my life...Eric thought everything was great. Life was good because of my babies but extremely challenging as I did my best to hold it together while my hormones were out-of-control. And with no family and friends close by...Eric became my mood board. I was obsessed with making sure the boys were fed and Bentley was receiving enough attention from me too. I felt torn as a new mother trying give all my babies enough love. I wish I could go back and speak to that little twenty-four-year mama and tell her, "You are enough. you are a good mama. you are doing good in life." Instead, I became easily irritated with everything Eric did or did not do. And with every expectation he did not meet or hurt my feelings, I kept notes in my head of all the ways my life was not panning out the way I intended. I was mentally stressed about all the ways I felt I did not know my husband. Truth was, I did not know him that well. I was learning his behaviors; and living with him all the time was exhausting. And I know he would say the same about me. He worked and tried his best to give me everything he thought I needed. In between my exhaustion, post-partum, and resentment I was a new wife. Both of us were navigating a lot of changes at lightning speed.

No matter how much we struggled adapting to our new life, at the end of the day there was a massive amount of love for one another. I have learned and appreciated the vulnerable times in my life when Eric was there. When he was there picking up the pieces of my childlike drunk behavior after having too much wine and blaming him for my issues within myself. I look back now and think a lot of fights would have been avoided had I loved myself more. I projected all my insecurities on him because he was standing in front of me when I could not face my own demons. Although, at times I felt like he was one of them. That is exactly what happens when you do not have God in your marriage, partnerships, or any kind of relationship. I have experienced all too well the handy work of evil and what it will destroy if you give it reign to do so.

Finally, I decided to go to the doctor and was prescribed my very first anti-depressant. Zoloft. It helped but I hated taking it. I did not like having to depend on a pill to help me navigate my daily life. I am not sure why considering I jumped at the chance to take any pain medication thrown my way. This was before the opioid epidemic when doctors did not mind prescribing. I started to find my groove, exercise, and I ate very clean. Life was better until after the boys started sleeping all night long. They were over a year old, and I began to drink more wine and take shots of vodka with Eric. It began innocent like most things in life.

As I reminisce back to those days, I do cherish the moments I had with my babies and Eric. I am forever grateful I was able to stay-at-home with them. It was not all a struggle. We shared many amazing memories with our babies and sometimes I forget the good when I have experienced the bad. Life is hard. And bad things happen. Bad things happen to good people. Good people are not perfect. We are all human and what I have learned along the way is 'more precious than silver'.

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