For the past few days, approaching a week, I’ve had a weight on my chest. The feeling of needing a good cry and just not being able to get it rolling.
Life gets complicated and everything seems to come to a head at once.
And the headache pounds and weight burns on my chest. I get angry at myself, I get frustrated with my inability to figure out just exactly where the pain and confusion is coming from.
Everything needs to get done at once. Bills need to be paid, the house needs to be childproofed for a baby who has started crawling, people need to be taken care of, meals need to be made and served. Exhaustion sets in where tired was already camping out. And I sit and wait for the walls to start falling down around me.
I feel as though I am approaching a moment when I will fall apart completely and lose my ability to take care of this little girl. I have too recently sat in front of her, crying and apologizing for my tears. I look at her and see pure love – someone who deserves every ounce of strength I can give her. The fear of failure is overwhelming.
Being a mother is something I have confidence doing, as it turns out, but that confidence wains occasionally when I realize just what kind of affect I could have on this beautiful little girl’s life.
My biggest fear, and the greatest reason for my PPD is that I will pass all my flaws and phobias on to her. I worry that her seeing me ebb and flow will give her the same complexes I have. That she will be able to see through me and feel the same doubts about herself.
I feel guilt about her already, and she’s barely getting started. Some days it gets the better of me, and sometimes those days pile up on me.