Self Love

I feel like I just gave myself a huge hug and told myself, “I’m worth it!”.

Why? This evening, I took a shower and I made and ate a salad. Maybe these don’t sound like the most glorious things, but right now, they were perfect.

My shower was so hot and cleansing. Crosby clearly enjoyed his view from the car seat on the floor of the bathroom. He was happy so I even shaved my legs.

Then I made a big salad bowl for myself. I even added some brown rice (that I made just for me in the rice cooker!) and some yummy fresh mozzarella cheese and veggies and lettuce and some olives… Not only did I take time to make the salad, I took time to eat it all up. It took longer than my usual cookie eating contest but I feel so much better and although I feel compelled (read: OCD) to go eat a few cookies, I actually don’t want them.

Now I feel clean and well nourished.

All the things I want for my baby and always forget for myself. hmmm…

Boob Food

I suppose my cosleeping, babywearing, cloth diapering persona would seem incomplete without a full discussion of breastfeeding. But, to be perfectly honest, I don’t have much to say because that seems to be one area of parenting where I’ve never second guessed my decisions.

I breastfed my daughter for one year. There were no notable complications, other than having to take my shirt off in every Starbucks in Toronto (but maybe I would have done that anyway). I introduced solids, starting with cooked vegetables, around 7 months and we stopped nursing at a year because it felt like the right time.

I am still exclusively breastfeeding my son (he is 5 months old) and I can’t really imagine taking care of him any other way.

Breastfeeding is so clearly the ‘way to go’ as far as I’m concerned, that I’ve never even bothered to really articulate why. I could tell you about respecting my baby enough to feed him the baby equivalent of a “whole foods diet” as opposed to a “protein shake diet”. I could tell you about the frequent recalls on baby bottles, bottle nipples and formula. I could tell you that until ten years ago baby formula didn’t contain any DHA (which is vital for brain development) and now it does (and is causing illness due to differences in the synthetic forms).

I could make the analogy that choosing breastfeeding is like choosing to feed your child fresh whole foods that you would feed yourself, versus feeding your baby every meal from a box or jar. But maybe you will also put your baby on the “gerber diet”. And then I would just never stop ranting about the evils of basing a diet on over-processed, packaged foods and the core problems in our societal views towards food but maybe you would feel like I was getting too preachy.

Besides, it is no secret that many women seem to have trouble getting started breastfeeding and they just don’t see any other options.  I attribute this to a lack of logistical support and onsite help from other women. Basically, I blame our stupid society for not creating opportunities for women who know things well to teach women who need to know them.

I know how to breastfeed, maybe I can help. I’ve now added “Lactation Consultant” to the list of careers that I am considering for when my maternity leave and sick leave and carried-over vacation time run out I enthusiastically make my ‘comeback’ into the working world.

Lowered Expectations

I have been thinking a lot about my blog during the days and it’s honestly really nice to have something concrete to focus my racing thoughts on. When I get a few minutes (that I really should spend sleeping showering), it’s sorta nice to collect my thoughts and write them down. But lately I am getting annoyed that my posts aren’t quite complete thoughts, or as well articulated as I’d like. Whenever I write, it always takes me a few drafts to get to the point I’m making and nowadays, I always get interrupted while I’m writing (because I have a baby who likes to sleep on me- my fault, not his). It’s really hard to focus like this.

Also, I get nervous if I don’t write every day or two because that is just the beginning of me never writing again (add one more thing to my failure list!), and I also feel like a failure for not remembering and writing down all of the much better entries that I think about all day.

Isn’t this dumb? I have a five month old and a two year old- I have postpartum depression and anxiety and I am dealing with serious neurological side effects from crappy antidepressants- I can barely stay on top of feeding my toddler and myself- Why do I have crazy expectations of the person that I think I am?

Even right now, I’m only able to write because I’ve brought the computer into bed. I am lying on my side with my arms wrapped around Crosby while he nurses/sleeps and am typing over him. And the photo that I added makes no sense- but I’m so tired…

It is hard to come to terms with my reality sometimes. In my head, I’m a very organized person. I’m always on top of things. My house is very neat and uncluttered. and I have a hot body I’m skinny. …Then I put on my glasses and look around…

The other day, I was meeting a new-ish friend and her baby for lunch near my house. As I walked out my door, I looked at my condo and got annoyed that it was so messy that day that I couldn’t invite my friend in after lunch. I wouldn’t want her to think that I actually live this way.

Then I started thinking about when I could invite her over and I realized that this messiness is actually how I live these days. There are always toys all over my floor, shoes all over the entrance way and my kitchen counters are never clear.

I’m not sure if this is something that all new moms have to come to terms with or if this will get better when my “happy pills” start to work (see previous posts). I understand that I have to redefine myself as my life changes but just because the “new me” happens to be a dirty, messy, depressed, fat girl, doesn’t mean I have to keep her. Does it?

Pill Popping Sucks

I’ve been sick. Stupid pills don’t work. I don’t understand why we called them ‘happy pills’ – they are definitely NOT making me happy!

I took a micro-dose of Celexa for two days last week. The horrible side effects came back right away- before I even got to feel any positive effect – and they are lingering, a week after I stopped taking the pills. The worst side effect that I’ve felt (by far) is a horrible ear stabbing pain in reaction to loud high pitched noises. This especially sucks because I happen to spend 24 hours a day carrying around a tiny sound machine (read: Baby). What kind of sick joke is this? As if postpartum depression isn’t enough?? Really!? If I believed in god, I think I’d be mighty pissed off at him right about now.

Also, my stomach sucks. But I think I’ve written enough about poop so I’ll stop there.

So, here is the plan, one more week of ‘detox’,  followed by a starter dose of Zoloft  together with some really hard wishing that it won’t make me want to carve out my ears with a melon baller.

This is actually really upsetting. For the last six months, my husband and I have been reassured by the idea that, even though Depressed and Anxious Lyla seems to have taken over our lives, soon we will have happy pills to make her go away. I am so anxious to get my life back – I just can’t do it on my own… I do think it may be worthwhile to note that I am finding it easier lately to enjoy some things. I put a peeled whole grapefruit in the blender this morning. It was deliciously refreshing.

I really hope these next pills work… but I’m hedging my bets.