It’s a funny little thing, Postnatal Depression. It’s funny because if you aren’t in a state of awe of this new life and opportunity that has been thrusted upon you, you aren’t coping.
Because I mean what isn’t there to be happy about?
Like when you’re stuck in the newborn phase of feeling you’ve been kicked up the groin, or sliced deep into your abdomen, you should be blissful. Right?
Like when you don’t care it’s 5am because you haven’t slept anyway, you’re meant to feel wonderful?
When breastfeeding hurts or you’ve been judged for any alternative ways of feeding, you should feel good.
Like being told your spoiling a child and created a monster because you tend to your crying baby, I mean that makes you happy, right?
Like all the images you’ve been projected with of family life is, beautiful manicured mothers, and doting husbands, and smiling blissful sleepy children. Doesn’t make you feel inadequate…
People who don’t know you, judge you and put you down for the ways you are just trying to survive these first few crazy months. I mean this sounds peachy, doesn’t it?
No wonder why we are fucking depressed!
The reality of the early stages of parenting feelings like the walls are closing in on you. And to admit that makes you seem like you’re weak or something is wrong with you. It’s not.
Having a baby is like a natural disaster, everyone bands together to help with the wreckage. Everyone is here to help you when you bring the tiny tornado home, wrapped in a cute blanket. Everyone comes with gifts, and help, and kind words, and then after two weeks, the dust settles and you are in your house all alone.
And you love your tornado, oh you do, you love it so much it hurts. But you are left with the aftershock of a major earthquake in your life.
Exhaustion sets in but you can’t explain it to your partner. He doesn’t get it. All he hears is that you have started competing with him about whose life is harder…The person who works all day? Or the person who looks after the tornado?
Who deserves a sleep in on the weekend more? Even if you do get up at the same time.
No wonder why we are depressed!
Then you experience the competitiveness in motherhood that sucks the life out of you. The mama olympics comes out and everyone is out for gold and some people will even step on you to get it.
There’s the birthing comparisons, the breastfeeding competitions, the sleeping baby marathon, the developmental baby gymnastics. Weight loss archery.
You don’t need that.
And you must always remember to be grateful! Be grateful!! Be grateful you’re covered in shit and haven’t slept for 10 years, because they’re only little once. Be grateful you stink of off milk and your boobs are about to explode, and your dying of pain every time your child comes near your breast! Be grateful!!!!
Yes I’m grateful now fuck off.
You don’t need that, you don’t need to fee defended
What You need is friends who will laugh with you and talk about avoiding sex, missing showers, and how many wines you can guzzle in between nap times.
Postnatal depression is a c**t. But if you’re not coping, doesn’t mean you have failed. Look at all the things fighting against you. You are strong, and strength is admitting you need help.
These days are full of little failures and mini victories, and you my friend, are a warrior.
You are so important in all of this, so please never forget it.