Archives for January 2011

For the Love of Blogging: Top Ten Tuesday

January 25, 2011 by ·

Miranda and Katie’s week of For the Love…of Blogging continues with today’s prompt to post the Top Ten reasons you love blogging. I’m noticing some similarities in the lists posted so far, which I think explains a lot about why these types of blogs have become such a big thing.

Here’s the Top 10 reasons I love blogging:

  1. It supports my inner writer. It gives me space to write. I write a bit for work, but this gives me a place where my writing is just for me.
  2. It supports my need for therapy. I jest, but only sort of. Okay, no. I’m actually not joking. Let’s just be honest here: I started this blog to work through my experience with postpartum depression and it really helps me with that.
  3. It supports others with PPD. Postpartum depression is not very well understood, and it’s not really talked about much. By writing about it I hope to help change that.
  4. It supports my inner nerd. There’s a small part of me that likes to play with technology. I haven’t done a whole lot with this blog yet, but I suspect I could easily get into it, lose track of time and discover that I haven’t showered or eaten for days and have lost my job. Looking forward to making it more mine over the coming months (at appropriate intervals).
  5. It supports my inner emotaphobe. Yes, I just made that word up. I’m one of the most emotional people I know. (Oy vey.) But aside from bursting into tears at very inopportune moments I actually find it hard to express my specific feelings to people face-to-face. I can do it way better in writing. I know not everyone cares what’s going on inside my head but any that do can get a glimpse through my blog.
  6. It supports my desire to time travel. Like a lot of people, I look forward to looking back over these entries and reflecting on how my experience and perspective has changed.
  7. It supports my inner extrovert. I love the community I’m finding through blogging. Mostly other moms, but people from all over the world who are living their life and using this medium to share pieces of it.
  8. It supports my inner introvert. I’m a weird combination – a sort of intro-extrovert, if you will. Blogging gives me alone time at the end of the day and I haven’t had enough of that in the last couple of years.
  9. It supports my inner secret agent. So far this blog isn’t general knowledge among people I know. I haven’t kept it a total secret – I’ve told some people and some people have found it on their own but part of me likes the fact that there’s a side to me not everyone knows about.
  10. It supports my inner narcissist. I love comments and pingbacks and retweets. Judge me if you will. 😉


Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: ,

Luck of the Draw?

January 24, 2011 by ·

I’ve often wondered how someone like me who really has nothing to complain about can end up with postpartum depression. Luck of the draw? Or genetics, or hormones, or whatever. It happened. Is happening. It’s a legitimate illness and most days I accept it even if I don’t always understand it.

But then I read stories that are so heartbreaking a little piece of me thinks, again, that I just need to suck it up.

Over the weekend I came across Finding My New Normal – one woman’s painfully honest story of having a stillborn child at 36 weeks following years of infertility. I can’t imagine.

Through following a trail of blogs tonight I found this post on transplanted thoughts. Holding your 7-month-old son as he takes his last breath? Almost unbearably awful. I can’t imagine.

When Connor was really small, I participated in an online community of pregnant and new moms. Through several weeks I followed one woman’s story, from her finding out through testing that her baby would have a birth defect to her daughter being born and their endless trips to the hospital. The baby was better. And then she wasn’t. She was better again, and then worse, and then really bad. Finally, none of the things they did were working and she couldn’t breathe. They had to keep her throat open with a tube, but the tube meant they couldn’t feed her properly. One surgery and then another, but in the end it came down to feeding or breathing. And those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

They made a decision. They took her out of the hospital and to the beach. They showed her the ocean. They held her and talked to her and soaked in every bit of her small being one last time. And then they took the tube out and let her go.

When this was happening, she let us know this is what they planned to do. It was awful to read, especially because none of us could do anything for her except hold her virtual hand. And when it was done, she came back to let us know. The community rallied around and a day or so later, at a specified time, we all lit a candle for this small child who had left the world far too early, and for her parents who had to carry on without her.

I lit a candle and cried. I cried, and cried, and cried. What an absolutely horrible thing to have happen.

So what on Earth is my problem? So my child doesn’t sleep well. Eventually he will. Right? (Right?!) So he had to be bounced all the time when he was small so he didn’t scream. And he was heavy. But hey! I lost all my baby weight and then some. I could have had a baby who slept and played happily and rarely fussed. Luck of the draw, I guess.

Compared to other stories, none of that matters. He’s alive. He’s healthy. He’s beautiful. And I love him with all my heart. My heavy heart. For tonight I will be grateful for all I have and send loving thoughts to those moms who aren’t so lucky.

Filed Under: Letters to Connor ·

Meet Me Monday

January 24, 2011 by ·

A couple of very lovely bloggers  I have come across in the last few weeks – Katie and Miranda –  are doing For the Love…of Blogging this week. Since I’m such a nerdy joiner I thought I’d play along. Plus this whole mommy blogging thing is new to me so I will probably learn a few things along the way.

Today is “Meet Me Monday” so if you came over from For the Love…of Blogging, here’s a bit about me.

I’m Robin and this is my second blog. Well, technically it’s my third blog but I can’t remember the URL for my first blog from years ago and I think I only ever got 3 posts into it. My other blog is the work me – it’s about internal communications and I started it mostly to have a space to write just for me, and that seemed like the most logical topic. As you can see if you clicked that link, I don’t update it a lot. I think it’s because there’s too much pressure to seem smart.

Then a few months ago I came across The Momoir Project and started to suspect maybe my story was more about being a mom. This is odd, since being a mom hasn’t been a fabulous success for me. Don’t get me wrong – I love my kid. Being a mom is just way, way, way harder than I thought it would be.

I kept my story to myself for a long time. I finally admitted I wasn’t doing so well, to myself and a couple of others, and started trying to find a solution. One of the things I’m really good at, though, is denial. You ever need help with denial? I’m your man. Er, woman. So I didn’t really follow the right path in getting help. (Blah, blah, blah – you can read more about that here.)

Ultimately my story is about having a baby, ending up with postpartum depression and losing whole pieces of myself in the process. I have found a few of those pieces by sucking it up, admitting I have a problem, taking medication and trying to find an appropriate balance to the exercise/chocolate-inhalation equation. I still have a few more pieces to find. Some of them are probably under the couch with bits of Lego and dried Playdoh. Some of them probably aren’t coming back, and I’m trying to reconcile myself to that.

But so many of the pieces of me are coming back through this blog and the community of women I’ve met since starting it. It’s like a whole new world to me. And this blog is only three weeks old!

I don’t know where this blog is going. I don’t want it to be a total downer. I also don’t want it to be all about PPD, necessarily, but for right now that’s what my story is. What I do want this blog to be is honest. Some days that’s hard, because people I know read it. But on those days I hit “publish” and pretend they don’t.

So far there’s only one thing I want to write about and haven’t. Probably won’t, at least not for quite a while. The rest of this is true to me. I know it is because when I look at the little tags on the right the three biggest words are “admissions,” “meltdown” and “routine,” which is pretty much what my life has been like for the past 2 1/2 years.

And that’s me.

Filed Under: Writing ·

The Last Sunday

January 23, 2011 by ·

In May 2009 my husband and I traded places. I went back to work after 11 months of mat leave and he started his new career as a stay-at-home dad. We were both pretty happy about it: he really wanted to stay at home (and I really didn’t). I was really ready to go back to work. This was largely because I found it incredibly hard to just be a mom all day.

I went back to work hoping – expecting – that all the things I found hard about being a mom would disappear. That didn’t happen but it was still a better balance for me.

And then there Sunday.

My husband is a graphic designer. He quit his full-time job to stay at home with Connor but the deal we made is that he would do freelance work two days a week. My parents take Connor on Thursdays so Rich can work. He also works on Sundays, which means I’m on mom duty.

This one day a week is so hard for me. So hard. I honestly don’t know what it is. It doesn’t matter whether I get to sleep in or not. It doesn’t matter if we have an activity planned or not, although if we have something scheduled for the morning I tend to last much longer before losing it. Sundays just…suck.

I used to find Sundays almost unbearable. Now they’re better, although I still start to get anxious around mid-afternoon on Fridays just knowing the weekend is coming and I’m about to be more mom than not. After a family-filled Saturday, Sunday alone with a 2-year-old is almost more than I can take.

I’ve tried a bunch of different strategies to deal with this, but it’s just not working. Lately I’ve been trying to be honest, with myself and others, about what I need help with. Today when my husband asked me how I was doing, I fessed up.

“I don’t think the Sunday routine is working for me.”

His response, bless his heart, was not, “No shit.” Instead he suggested what I have been thinking – that he work Saturdays instead. He can get up and take Connor to his Saturday morning class and I can sleep a bit. Then he can start working after they get home around 10. It’s not a magic solution to any of my issues. Nothing is. But at least this time I was able to admit that I need help finding something that works better.

Filed Under: Postpartum depression · Tagged With:

Secret Mommyhood Confession Saturday

January 22, 2011 by ·

My husband is a stay-at-home dad. I know, right? We’re so lucky. Lucky that he wants to do this (and I don’t). Lucky that we can make it work. Lucky that we don’t have to do the crazy getting-everyone-out-the-door routine every morning to get two adults to work and a 2 1/2 year old to daycare.

Instead, I get up in the morning and have some quiet time with the kid. He and his dad goof around in the bedroom while I have a shower and get ready for work. When it’s time to go, I get a hug from a small boy who’s playing happily at home in his pj’s (or naked, as is more often the case lately), ready for whatever fun activities his dad has in store for the two of them. It makes the mornings generally quite lovely.

But there’s a down side to this arrangement. In our family, a stay-at-home dad and a working mom means I get up with the kid on weekdays. Nine times out of 10, that’s earlier than I’d have to get up. Sometimes it’s 6 a.m. and, with a kid who doesn’t sleep well, 6 a.m. is really freaking early.

It means I go to work at a busy job and then come home and go right back into mom mode. I get an enthusiastic greeting at the door from a very excited, very jumpy dog and a toddler who’s heading into the time of day more often associated with meltdowns than magical moments. Some days I love this – the running, jumping, “Hi Mama!” show of love from both of them. Some days it’s overwhelming.

Yes, my husband makes dinner. And does dishes. But here’s the thing: I’m an introvert at heart. Pre-baby, we’d both come home and have a little bit of time to decompress before dinner. I don’t get that anymore. I get a tag-along while I get changed. A very sweet boy who wants me to dive right into playing on the floor with him, even if that’s the last thing I feel like doing right when I walk in the door.

As well, I like to putter. There’s something about tidying the kitchen that makes me feel sane. It seems silly to complain about an arrangement that means I have a husband who tidies the house at the end of the day, but some days I would really rather do that than play with Playdoh.

The SAHD arrangement also means I do bedtime during the week, which involves giving a bath to a kid who likes to splash water EVERYWHERE and trying to brush the teeth of a child who would rather smear me with toothpaste than sit still for a few minutes so I can clean his teeth. It involves trying to convince a headstrong two-year-old that it’s okay to get into his bed, okay to go to sleep, and okay to do all of this without his mother having to sit in the room for God knows how long. Either that, or plop him in there and listen to the screaming.

Yes, the stories and cuddles are awesome. Yes, seeing my active little boy looking like a baby again asleep in his bed is wonderful. But at the 14-hour mark, it takes a lot of patience I often don’t have.

You see, if my husband worked too, some of this would be easier. I wouldn’t have to do all of the kid stuff every night. I’d get to come home and putter sometimes. I’d be a little bit less mom and a little bit more me.

And that’s my secret mommyhood confession.

Filed Under: Motherhood · Tagged With:
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