Okay okay, I already said this is hard right? The PPD is kicking in like a mother fucker. Last night my husband and I had a discussion while I sobbed about what we were both going through. He was having trouble understanding what it is exactly that I’m feeling and I was having trouble explaining it. Externally, as he pointed out, he has more on his plate than I do right now. He has enormous pressures at work, plus lack of sleep etc. etc. etc. I, meanwhile, have help and no deadlines or work at the moment. So why you falling apart? he rightfully wondered. He saw me go through this with Elby so he knows how out of control these feelings got for me last time but he somehow expected or hoped that since we’d been here before I’d be able to see that it’s all temporary and know that we’re going to get through it and that it does get better.
What he doesn’t get is that I can’t see anything intellectually through the haze of hormones that are ripping through my body right now. It’s not all day. Yesterday morning I felt good. Positive. “I can do this!” I thought to myself. Yesterday evening I was practically in the fetal position, crying, sure that I was soon to be a divorced single mom with twins and a regressed three-year-old who pees her pants daily. Seriously. Jon asked me what I thought was the worst case scenario and that’s what I told him. And I meant it. I was scared. Intellectually, I know that’s not going to happen but my hormones or whatever tell me a different story.
It can’t be explained unless you’ve been there. I can’t be talked out of it. But I do know it will pass. I do know that.
Jon listened to me and tried so hard to understand. He offered to buy me Brook Shield’s book “Down Came the Rain.” He says we’re a team. Intellectually I believe him.