My life right now seems to be simultaneously beautiful and painful beyond expression.
***As I've had a few people reach out to me since admitting that I have PPD, I thought I'd try to help you all get in my head a bit more. It feels right at the moment to be vulnerable and real, if it helps even one person realize that they're not alone. But be warned--inside my head right now is not a simple place to be. I'm pretty sure that the moment after I push "Publish," I'll have huge amounts of regret and fear over being so raw online. But I'm feeling prompted to do this, so....time to be brave.***
*takes deep breath*
As I said, my life is beautiful beyond expression.
The beauty is found in moments like when I finally walk into the bathroom after already having been awake for hours, chasing children and frantically trying to keep up, only to have this message greeting me:
Moments like this make me catch my breath in gratitude and awe. I am truly, TRULY blessed to have the marriage and family I do. I realize that.
And yet, there is simultaneous pain, too. The pain comes when I set down the baby to try to accomplish any of the dozens of tasks on my mental "To-Do" list--you know, the shoulds... I should be doing.... I should be accomplishing....I should be more....
And this happens:
It is literally physically painful to me nearly every time Calvin cries. I feel overwhelming guilt for the fact that my baby is suffering and I'm not immediately fixing it, I feel overwhelming pressure to solve the problem, I feel overwhelming--everything.
Overwhelmed is a good word for my life right now.
The pain comes when there are four little ones making messes, and only Steve and I trying desperately to keep up with this:
And this:
I can't begin to tell you the crushing shame I feel as I look at these pictures. Only a complete failure of a mother would let her kids' rooms get to this point, right? Only a complete failure of a mother would be so disorganized as to even allow this many toys in her kids' rooms--I should be rotating toys out. I should be periodically donating toys. I should have an organized system for their toys. I should be following through to be sure the kids only play with one thing at a time. I should be making sure my kids clean their rooms more often.
I know all the solutions. I just can't seem to implement them.
No matter that my childrens' rooms were spotlessly clean and perfectly organized exactly three days before this picture was taken, nor that our Spring Break was spent doing incredibly productive and enjoyable activities outside for the most part (building a barn with my parents, building a new chicken coop, playing with baby chicks)....the shoulds attack me without mercy.
The pain comes as I read this list of the symptoms of Postpartum Depression/Anxiety and realize that I'm exhibiting the majority of those symptoms.
The pain comes as I sit in front of my wonderfully caring OB-gyn and realize that for the first time in my life, I either have to continue being afraid to be alone with my children, or I can take medication to hopefully alleviate the constant anxiety and panic I feel.
The pain comes as I attend the temple in desperation for some semblance of peace or relief from my demons, only to realize that I've brought my demons in with me. (This article describes my latest experience pretty accurately).
The pain comes as I watch the confusion, fear, and pain on my childrens' faces when I lose it and yell at them over something as trivial as dropping their backpacks on the floor in excitement to tell me how their day went at school.
The pain comes when my husband gently and sensitively suggests hiring someone to come in and clean for us. OVERWHELMING--guilt, shame, all of it.
The pain comes when I finally get the gumption to clean the main bathroom (it's smelled like pee since the last time it was cleaned--a couple of weeks ago....happens when you have young boys, I guess), and I come out to see that the kids in their excitement decided to peel their Easter eggs on the couch I had just vacuumed.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
The pain ebbs and flows. I have good days and bad days, and as I have been waiting for my medication to kick in, I'm starting to hope that I'm having more and more good days. Days where I can see the beauty through the pain.
Eventually, I hope to bypass the pain altogether and enjoy the overwhelming beauty.
Beauty in moments when my baby smiles and coos at me.
I'm incredibly grateful that although I've experienced many signs of PPD this time around, I've still felt bonded to my baby. The beauty of his smiles and expressions is the most deep and profound joy in the world to me, as it has been with each of my children. I am so grateful that although I'm being asked to go through this inexplicable pain right now, I'm still able to feel love and joy from my infant.
I'm truly blessed.
The beauty comes when I watch Calvin with Maggie.
His siblings love him so very much. Jack turned 7 last week (cue guilt over not blogging pictures yet), and he was actually excited to have Calvin along on his special birthday lunch.
The beauty comes in watching Maggie's excitement over me allowing her to wear my necklace while I paint her nails--especially for Easter.
The beauty comes in the moments when I try to allow myself to ignore the laundry and just hold my baby.
The beauty comes every single time I let my lips rest on his sweet, soft head, and I inhale that special newborn scent.
The beauty comes in silly selfies:
And in watching my children all peacefully enjoying their Easter treats.
The beauty comes in sitting on my front porch swing and breathing in the beautiful spring days we've been blessed with.
The beauty comes in listening to Jack read from the Book of Mormon with no help from me.
The beauty comes in sitting in Sacrament Meeting by myself with all four kids (Steve's work schedule means him working at least two weekends a month), but realizing that the messages I'm getting are perfectly suited for me right now.
The beauty comes in snuggling with Clark and smiling as he plays with my ear and sucks his thumb.
The beauty comes in moments like these:
And these:
And these.
My life is beautiful beyond description.
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