I wanted to write a post about yoga–not the 30-day challenge I did several weeks ago, but the pretzel poses baby girl gets herself into, how flexible babies are, etc…but it would be so much cuter with photos, which a) I don’t have and b) I wouldn’t post here anyway unless you couldn’t see Missy’s face.
Besides, I have something else to write about, something I have danced around and avoided and denied, something that finally needs to be said.
In the last year, my emotions have been all over the place. Extreme highs, extreme lows, sometimes both at once. Maybe it’s hormones, especially that hormone crash in the early days. Maybe it’s “situational,” as I was told by one of the lactation consultants. And, yes, we’ve had a laundry list of stressors in the last year that have contributed to the yo-yo I’ve been experiencing. But more and more, I’m beginning to admit to myself that it could be something else.
It’s worst with my husband. I snap at him, pick fights, accuse him if neglecting our daughter. And then I blame it on sleep deprivation, on the situation we’re in, on the fact that we’re stranded here without family, without friends, and now without an income. And all of those things are true.
But what if there’s more to it? What if I’ve been dealing with PPD or PPA all this time? What if, in my bull-headedness, I’ve been denying myself the help I need?
Not that it would necessarily be easy to come by. From the brief conversation I’ve had about it with one of the breastfeeding clinic doctors, most counseling is not covered by our government health insurance. There is something available through our local community health clinic, but apparently the wait list is quite long. I never checked into it because, as I said, until the past few days, I’ve been in big-time denial.
So it’s time to investigate, see what kind of help I can get in the (hopefully) limited time we have left in this city. In the meantime, I’m thinking of trying the Listener app. Has anyone else used this?
Anyway, these posts are supposed to be about my daughter. This is me trying to be the best mother to her that I can. And, right now, that means asking for help, which I am really, really bad at doing. I hope to teach her to be better at it.