Postpartum Depression Diaries Part 2: I am not Charlie-Sheen-winning at motherhood

Last week I shared part 1 of a series of writings from a dark time in my life. Everyone around me seemed to be creating a beautiful life with their children and I was just trying to survive the day. Only in retrospect do I realize that my experience wasn't normal, it was mired by postpartum depression. Now that I can readily see the beauty in my life, it hurts me to read these words laced with anger and confusion. I hope it may help one person who's facing their own darkness.

If you are experiencing any symptoms of postpartum depression, seek help from your doctor. There is no shame in what you cannot control.

Sometimes parenting sucks. Sometimes I want to puke all over the Facebook status describing your perfect parenting day filled with the magical mundane.

You're peacefully wearing your baby as birds chirp outside your kitchen window and I'm being pinched and pushed and rejected for, oh I don't know, being in the bathroom without my child for 34 seconds.

You're taking your time to pick wildflowers with your little one on the walk to your enriching and educational activities and I'm just trying to run a single errand in the hour or so between cat naps that she's somewhat agreeable.

You're delighting in sharing a family bed with your little one and basking in all of the copious cuddles and I'm having a near panic attack because, well, my lovey doesn't want to self soothe or be comforted.

My new full time job is feeling like a terrible mom. Don't worry, she's fed, dry, warm, held, loved, played with, etc., but I always feel like I'm blindly navigating every aspect of parenting.

I am not Charlie-Sheen-winning. Or maybe this is the exact definition of Charlie-Sheen-winning.

photo credit: JuanLazy via photopin cc

I have my ideals, but I can't live up to them.

My husband and I were told in marriage counseling that we were overly idealistic about each other, but at least I have some sense of control of how our marriage goes. I have the power to be loving, respectful and understanding and my husband always responds in kind.

But when you throw in a new personality who is affected by a million different, silent things but cannot clearly communicate, I feel lost. Because what helped her yesterday aggravates her today and I don't have any magic answers.

I know you can sympathize more than your social media page attests. Let's face it, no one wants to be Charlie Sheen, but I feel lost and alone. I'm frantically looking for a flashlight some days because the darkness feels heavy. I'm wondering if I'll ever get the hang of it. I'm wondering if you now think I'm completely unfit to be a mom.

Postpartum Depression Diaries Part 1: When Parenthood Rubs You The Wrong Way

I thought I was a bad mom. I thought I wasn't cut out for motherhood. I thought I would never be the same. That last part turned out to be true, but not in the negative sense I first thought. I was never diagnosed with postpartum depression, but only because I never reached out for help. Only in hindsight, now that the inner chaos has calmed, do I realize how very dark my experience was as a new mom. Here's part one of a collection of writings I scribbled while in that dark place...tidied up so as to not scare anyone. 

If you are experiencing any symptoms of postpartum depression, seek help from your doctor. There is no shame in what you cannot control.

My husband is highly introspective and equally fascinated with my brain. So it's natural that he's pretty obsessed with personality tests. If you're like him, you know what I mean when I say I'm an ISFJ on the Meyers-Briggs and a super high S on the DISC profile. If you're not like him, it means that I strive for harmony.

In my adult life at least, I have been calm, cool, and collected. As soon as I was legal, I moved away from home and ended up halfway across the country. I love family, but I chose a fresh start and gloriously lived anonymously. I married young and found a partner that selflessly gives of himself every day. I have always made my bosses happy. And even when I was in a toxic work environment, my face never gave away the stress ulcer inside.

I used to think I was emotionally balanced. And then I became a parent.

My true self emerged the day I brought home my daughter, when harmony as I knew it ended...abruptly. Cue copious amounts of crying, screeching, screaming, and snarling...those sounds belonging to both baby and mama.

This was us about a month in. You get the picture.

Just a few days prior, I could come home from a crazy day at the office and unwind. Now, my haven, my slice of paradise had become her lair of fuss.

It's not that I mind being needed 24/7. I just feel unhinged when I can't satisfy those needs. Even well past the colic stage, I found myself stepping over my parenting paradigm line. Like yelling at her for not sleeping. Or feeling resentful that she made my husband into her daddy and now we have to share him.

This is not the mom I wanted to be.

I've thought about 978 times that I wasn't made for motherhood. Other women transition into the role with grace, but I've questioned whether I'll ever be myself again...or at least who I thought I was.

My thirst for harmony is never going away. It's intrinsically who I am. Parenthood has taught me that when my need for harmony goes unmet, the worst of me shows. And somehow I need to be ok that the worst of me has to be good enough for my daughter.

We're all going to fail our kids. I just never thought my failures would stem from my very personhood.