Continued

I actually felt fabulous for a few days after that post, so I've decided to continue it.

I can't imagine loving my son any more than I do. It's almost painful. But there are times when I feel like I can't be bothered. Like I just need to be ME again for 10 minutes, and not mommy. But the guilt of being me interrupts that time, and though I may not be responsible for him at that moment, I'm still Mommy. It's my new identity that I can't seperate from Megan. I think that stems back with the pregnancy, and how the PPD began.

Pregnant was my identity. It was who I was for 9 months. It was my world, and it took over my being. I didn't want to be that girl, the one that being pregnant was 'it' for her, that had nothing else to talk about, but it was all-consuming. And well, let's face it. I was a SAHW, being pregnant was the only thing I had going on. It was my entire identity, I was creating a life. And then he was born. And he was FANTASTIC. But then, what was I? It was like I was done, I was over with. What purpose was *I* now? He didn't need ME specifically anymore. He could survive without ME. Anyone could care for him.

And there was suddenly the MOST. EMPTY. FEELING. I have ever experienced.

I was alone in my body again. It was like the miscarriage all over again, but completely losing myself as well. And out of desperation, I wanted to be pregnant again. RIGHT THEN. I had a 6 week old baby, I was barely functioning in the world, and I wanted to bring another baby in on top of it. Actually, I don't think I really thought about the logistics of another child, I just wanted my PURPOSE back. But instead, I had to find a new identity.

Well, that, and happy pills.

Now I'm Momma. I'm not disposable. Yes, he can *survive* without me, but no one cares for him like I do. No one knows his routine inside and out, no one knows what every cry means, no one else knows the difference between the 'tired' whimper and the 'I need some lovin' whimper. Not even Daddy. No one else can out him to sleep without a bottle. No one else can even get him to nap unless he is at the point of exhaustion.

But, it's still a struggle. I don't want to be on my medication anymore. I do think a lot of my worry and insecurity is just part of being me. I've always had it, it's just more severe now. But, I continue to take it because there are the bad days. The days when I want to run away. The days that I want someone else to take care of him just so I don't have to be responsible for him - or have the guilt if I am not. But, I know that no one else takes care of him like I do. No one else has the magic momma touch.

I stress about everything, and I don't have to. I have a great life. I have the life I always dreamed of. I have an amazing husband, a beautiful child, a house, and we can afford for me to stay home. That's kind of rare in this generation. I am like the ultimate 1950s housewife, because I chose to be. I always wanted to be a mom at home with the kids. Now I have everything I always wanted - and I struggle. In the beginning, most of the responsibility fell on Chris. I physically could not get out of bed with the baby in the middle of the night. I could not wake myself up enough to move my body. There are still nights like that, but not for the same reason. I would count down the minutes until Chris would get home, and the minute he walked in, he was on baby duty. And it would continue until the minute he left for work. My PPD was rough on him as well. I had a fabulous husband who would come home, take care of the baby, do the dishes after dinner, get up with him in the middle of the night... and I hated him. HATED him. I'm talking, thinking about a divorce daily. And leaving Cole with him. Why? I don't know. Maybe that day it was because he left his shoes in the foyer. He didn't put the burp cloth in the hamper. He left his pajamas in the bathroom. He didn't clean one out of 20 dishes properly. The minute I saw any of that, I was filled with RAGE. I literally would envision smashing things into his head. I HATED him.

I still know he gets a raw deal. I am still hard on him, I know it. I try not to be, and I try to always think about what I say before I say it. It doesn't always work, however. I am so lucky with him though. I know how much he loves me. I know that he understands a lot of this, and I know he cuts me a lot of slack and lets it roll off his back. I don't want to be the stereotypical 'I have the best husband' mushy gushy here, but he is amazing, and I am lucky that he is so forgiving of my snapping judgements. I'll say things some times, then walk away and think 5 minutes later, "Wow, that was crazy bitchy of me..." and sometimes, I'm too stubborn to apologize. Or too embarassed that I did it, so I just ignore it. I shouldn't. I know it. But in that moment... it's easier.

I stress about money, not because I have to. Not because it's tight. Because I now spend more than I EVER have before. My child is more expensive than most. I know I mentioned this in the other post, but it's something that consumes me. A part of my OCD is about money. I fear going broke. In reality, I don't have to stress like this. We wouldn't try for another child if we couldn't afford it. I'm not bragging. We aren't rich by any means. We live in a Low cost of living area, Chris bought the house almost 15 years ago so we have a low mortgage payment, and we drive VW cars LOL. I have a coupon addiction just because I won't pass up free money. That helps calm me. :D

In case you couldn't tell, today is a good day. The sun is shining, it's fairly warm, Cole and I are going to the outlets and the mall when he gets up from his nap, and we will be getting out for some shopping and exercise! Momma needs to find end tables for the living room. Days like this, I live for. I make it through the bad days because I know there will be days like this. Days where I look at my child sleeping next to me, and I'm so overwhelmed with love and adoration, I don't know whether to scream, cry, or just smother him in kisses. A day that I want to wake him up because he's been napping for over an hour, and I miss him. A day where just looking at that sweet sleeping face and those long, dark eyelashes bring such a smile to my face, that I can't IMAGINE what the rest of my life will be like with him, and all the things he will do as he grows. I can't wait for the sleepy eyeballs to make an appearance, to focus in on Mommy's face, and then a big smile to appear as he reaches for me and tries to sit straight up to grab my face. It's those moments that keep me going. It's moments like that that make me get through the bad days, because a day like this will be right on the other side.

And that is motherhood.