I always said I wanted my kids 18 months apart, but I NEVER thought it would actually happen. I found out I was pregnant with my second on May 18th, 2012...my first was only days shy of 11 months. Doing the math that day I knew I would have kids 18-19 months apart. I cried. I was scared. That meant two in diapers, two teething, two of a lot because my first was technically still a baby.
Weeks passed & I fell deeper & deeper into this funk. How would I ever love another the way I love my first? So many questions and what ifs. I'll admit I became depressed. I knew life was going to get fucking hard and that things were about to change.
I prayed for weeks for another boy. Lord knows I saved everything from my first and if I had a girl none of it would be any good. My prayers were answered on August 23rd and then confirmed on August 31st.
I was not only depressed at my situation, but disappointed in myself. Why didn't I protect myself? How was I going to possibly provide for another child with a part time job and still in school? I forgot I wasn't alone. I am by no means too proud for a hand, but I feel like my children are my responsibility and no one else's. If we brought children into this world it is up to us to provide.
I still haven't mentioned how bad things got when I had to withdraw school at 28 weeks because I would leave to have the baby just before finals. Then again when I got put on bedrest by my doctor at 35 weeks for elevated BP. I felt like such a failure!
It wasn't an easy pregnancy. All along I really did wish I wasn't in the situation. The day he was born that all disappeared. I loved him like only a mother loves her child. All of that doubt and fear went away.
However, life with two little ones is hard. One is hungry all the time or needs to be changed or held or just wants to nurse because he wants comfort from mommy...the other is getting into EVERYTHING! Screaming when you say no and for some reason the baby is his new pinch cushion.
Once my honey went back to work I felt like I was sinking into a hole. Suddenly, everything was harder. I felt broken when I couldn't tend to my children at the same time. Broken when I yelled because I just had no patience left. I felt broken when I cried because I wished things to be different. I felt like an awful mother for wishing life was just different, easier even.
Not until about two months ago did I realize I might be dealing with PPD. It takes everything in me to admit it, but yes the PPD. Post partum depression! Its ok to speak about it.
I refuse to not talk about it and I refuse to not get help. So recently, I called my doctor and she lead me in the right direction. If it wasn't for my support system I would have probably pulled my hair out.
Life is hard. Breastfeeding takes work and effort. Babies don't always cooperate and mommy isn't always feeling great. I struggle to stay sane in every aspect of my life day in and day out.
So my purpose? Well the point of this entire blog is so that I can talk about my journey through life as a young mom. My struggle with what I think is PPD, my struggles with breastfeeding including my views on all things breastfeeding (pictures may be posted), and life with my boys. I will rant about the bad days and brag about the good days, so bare with me.
Looking forward to all of this. :)
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