If anything, I feel like treating them poorly after they’ve woken her up for the 67th time because they can’t walk past her without holding her hand or giving her a kiss. They’re infatuated with her facial expressions. They try to imagine what she’s thinking. They want to dress her up, carry her around and keep her in bed with them at night. I’m so proud of how loving they are and it makes me immensely proud to be their mother.

I think I’m finding it easier to survive without falling into depression this time because I’m amazed every day by how helpful and enjoyable the kids are with their baby sister.

Can one little person be more loved than our little Laurelyn?

I hope so, I hope every little one knows this quantity of love.

Jason and Jocelyn took a break from homeschooling to snuggle Laurelyn and keep her from fussing.

(Yes, we’re still doing school through the summer. Maybe I’ll write about that another day because I’m getting asked about it often.)

I haven’t written in the past couple of days because I’m feeling better. It’s work but I am feeling better but every time I start writing my words come out in sad sentences that sound like they’re barely trying to keep up the veil of competence. I would delete the posts before they ever got published because I knew that you are all smart enough to tell that I’m either functioning on half of my brain capacity or I’m struggling.

I’m better but I’m still taking things day by day and my kids have been amazing. Jason and Jocelyn take care of David in the morning and make sure they all eat breakfast and play until I wake up to the sounds of cereal being poured, milk hitting the bowls and David squealing, “mine, mine.”

It’s not perfect but hearing them in the morning makes it easier to get up and get moving because I know that they’re being brave and helping out of their love for their mother. The least I can do is use that love to get me through this pregnancy.

That didn’t happen.

I told family and my two best friends and that was it and I only did that much because I felt that it was expected of me. I felt like a telephone salesman while I was telling everyone. I was faking enthusiasm because I thought it was expected. I’m starting to wonder why I care about what my brain seems to think is expected.

Truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared of being fat again. I didn’t lose all the baby weight from David and although I’m determined to lose the weight this time because it’s my last baby, I’m not convinced. I’m grieving the loss of another year to diaper bags, diaper changing, sleepless nights and the emotional upheaval. It was hard on Chuck and the kids, and me, with all the emotional roller coasters we went through during my post partum depression. I usually love roller coasters but this was painful and I’m scadred because I can feel it already. I can feel the dread, the despair, the loneliness which is what kills me. Why does depression feel so lonely? I can handle all the rest as long as I have my family and my friends but when I feel alone and deserted it’s like not being able to breath but walking around a mall trying not to show all the breathing people that I’m suffocating.

So I admitted it. Everyone keeps telling me of how proud they are and how incredible it is that we’re having another baby like it’s a miraculous achievement but the baby isn’t here yet and I don’t feel confident in the slightest. I feel like apologizing to my unborn child that I am so weak and I pray that as the pregnancy continues that I will grow shoulders that can carry the weight of my emotions, a heart that will grow to envelope this child and strength to give me the ability to smile the next time someone says, “Wow! Four kids that’s amazing” and I will say “You’re right. It is fantastic.”

I had the assumption that now that the Postpartum Depression was over that life would go back to normal. Well, you know what assuming does right? I have talked about my Depression pretty openly and because of that I think it’s been easy to assume that it wasn’t bad, I mean it turned out alright in the end, right?

No, it didn’t.

One of the things I didn’t expect after having Postpartum was that all those things you do when you are functioning on half the brain cells and only a quarter the emotional strength, come back to haunt you later. I’ve just been so grateful to be normal again that I thought everyone was happy to have normalcy return from his darkened slumber.

I know this makes no sense to you but it’s helpful to me to write it down and I promise that regular postings will return shortly. As for now I’m going to wrack my brain for anything I might have said or done during those desperate months and hope it doesn’t come back to knock the wind out of me.

]]> http://jenthemom.com/jibberish/feed/ 2 http://jenthemom.com/643/ http://jenthemom.com/643/#comments Thu, 07 Dec 2006 19:23:28 +0000 Jen the Mom http://jenthemom.com/?p=643 Continue reading →]]> Gym time, family time, craft time and a little time for me.

I am back at the gym. Granted it’s only three days a week but three is better than none, which is what I WAS devoting to my gym lately. I know it’s busy and it’s hectic and there’s a million things going on but I really needed to carve out some time for exercising or I was going to be nose first in a mess of depression again and as much as I loved the experience (can you hear the sarcasm?) I am not interested in doing that ever again.

The gym is an interesting place, just ask Waiter Rant. He’s got a funny post about that here.
Years ago I went to a class called Ripped, and it was full of some pretty ripped bodies. It was easy to see how they got so in shape, the class was brutal. I couldn’t go back to the next class because I could barely walk, let alone jump on adn off a step bench with dumb bells in each hand. This week I started that class again. I have a had a baby since the last time I went so I’m now in even worse shape but I am determined to get cute. I mean, I am cute but I want to be hot. I want to set off fire alarms, I want to be THAT hot! I think I can do it. I’m tired and everything hurts from my eyebrows down but I really want this. I don’t want to walk like an 18 month old though. You know, the walk where they don’t bend their knees at all. That’s what I look like because my legs hurt too bad to use them.

Speaking of things I really want, I want more me time. I have been stressing out over Chuck’s family Christmas party which is held at our house again this year. I’ve been thinking and re-thinking every detail so that THIS year I have everything prepared. This year everyone will leave amazed at how wonderful it went, how beautiful the house looked, how organized and perfect everything is. Trying to achieve this utopia of Christmas parties has created a slight anxiety and panic attacks and I think if I keep it up my husband might go looking for a younger, hotter, less crazy version of the real me and the Christmas party is just not worth all the hassle of a divorce so I am giving up the idea of a perfect party and settling for a realistic version, a fun and entertaining party where things might not be perfect but everyone leaves with a full belly and their faces hurt from laughing. Sounds like a pretty decent party if you ask me.

Three cheers for less stress!