Maybe Babies do Self-Wean

Julian turned 9 months a week or so ago.  At his 9 month checkup my suspicions were confirmed: he's a tiny little thing.  He's only in the 3rd percentile for weight (16.64 pounds) but 75th for height.  He's tall and skinny (he certainly doesn't get that from me!)   The doctor isn't concerned about his weight because he's continuing to grow on the same curve, but it's a little unsettling as his momma to hear he's so teeny!!!  More on that later.

Julian has 4 teeth (no new ones in a month), but he seems to be teething again.  I'm thinking the other top middle tooth is about to emerge.  Thankfully he doesn't seem too distressed about the teeth coming in - he's really an all around easy-going baby. 

 

Last night was the third night in a row that he slept all night, so I'm hoping we're on to something.  I am really ready for consistently full nights of sleep myself and I know he needs the sleep as well.  He and Lukas are still sharing a room even though we're at my parents' house - we thought about separating them, and have plenty of room to do so, but Lukas seems to like his brother in the room and they don't wake each other up so we're going to roll with it for now.  J has two lovies he sleeps with - a lion and a little bear and has totally stopped taking a pacifier (the first picture above is actually a teether!)



 

J is such a sweet little guy - and so happy. He lights up when his daddy walks in the room and adores his big brother.  His arms and legs start flailing when he sees either of them and he grins from ear to ear!

He's crawling and cruising around furniture and has just started standing without holding on to anything.  He can stand for about 5 seconds before realizing he's not attached to anything at which point he gets scared and falls down or reaches to steady himself.  I think he'll start walking any day now! 

He's eating any and everything and has a big appetite!  Last night for dinner he ate an slice of quiche and a cup of yogurt!  If you are eating around him, he'll make it known that he expects you to share!

The biggest news with J is that as of this week he's no longer nursing, which has been a hard decision for me but an easy one for him.  Julian has never been a big fan of nursing - he never comfort nursed and he refused to nurse unless he was really hungry.  For the past month or so he's been consistently less and less interested.  I would try to nurse him and he would stop after only a minute or two and push away from me.  He was done.  But I kept thinking it was too soon.  Everything you read says that babies do not self wean before a year. I nursed Lukas until he was 19 MONTHS!  So stopping at 9 months with Julian was not the plan.  But as I am continuing to learn, even though the boys look like twins, they are two very different children.  And I'm also having to remind myself that I'm not a bad mommy for doing things one way with Lukas and another way with Julian.  (Of course you knew there would be guilt, there is always guilt....).

So what was the final straw that pushed me over the edge?  This past weekend J woke up from a nap and I nursed him, a good 4-5 minutes which is actually long for him these days.  Afterwards I was holding him while I sorted empty bottles for daycare the next day and J started going nuts.  He was flailing his arms and reaching for the bottle, clearly wanting it.  So I filled it up with 6 ounces of formula to see if he'd drink it.  He did.  Plus 2 more ounces.  The kid was hungry.  Apparently he wasn't getting what he needed from me even when he was nursing.  So after some more guilt over the fact that my milk may not have been adequate for him (remember how tiny he is?  is that my fault?!?), I made the decision to listen to my little guy and stop nursing him.  Tuesday morning I nursed him for less than one minute before he pushed me away and I thought that'd be the last time.  He didn't ask to nurse or paw at my shirt the next two days, but he rarely ever had in the last 9 months - he just wasn't a big fan of the whole thing.  I think he is just too busy to stop and nurse in a dark room with his momma.  And don't even get me started on trying to nurse him under a nursing cover!  He'd rather drink a bottle in the kitchen and watch his big brother play.  Damn social second kids!

Last night I was giving him a bottle before bed and he was falling asleep as he drank.  He stopped taking the bottle and curled up on my chest with his eyes fluttering.  I convinced myself that he was asking to nurse (he wasn't), so for one last time, sitting in the white wicker chair with the purple cushion in the guest room of my parents house, I nursed him and drank in the sight and smell of my baby boy who is growing up much too quickly for my liking.  I have tears in my eyes now as I write that.  Nursing is such an emotional experience for me and I'm a bit heartbroken to be stopping, but I know he's ready.  I don't care what any La Leche follower says.  My boy was done, and as a result, so am I.  Now I just hold on to hope that my hormones don't come crashing down around me in a sea of post-weaning depression.

The First Year

I can't recall the date, or even the month, or really even what year it was, but sometime after Lukas turned 1 but before I was pregnant with Julian, a close friend and I met for drinks at some random bar at Atlantic Station.  No, now that I think about it, I was pregnant with Julian because I ordered an orange juice (great memory I've got here, really).  Anyway, we were sitting at the bar and I was eating a flat bread pizza and we were talking about working and life and trying to find the balance.  And in that conversation I remember discussing with her how it is a bad idea to make any major life changes in the first year of your baby's life.  And the one I was talking about specifically was work.  And more precisely, not quitting it.  I don't recall what lead to this conversation or where I was in my emotional well-being (or lack thereof) at the time, but this conversation has been ringing in my ears lately.

 

The first year with a new baby is hard stuff.  There's the lack of sleep; the teething; the uncertainty of what you're doing; the worry; the breastfeeding and leaky boobs and plugged ducts; the never-ending flow of laundry; the changing postpartum body and daily question of what in my closet fits today; there's a lot of poop; sometimes there's colic; did I mention the lack of sleep?; there's runny noses and daycare sniffles; and it's all wrapped in a shiny bow of postpartum hormones.  This is hard stuff without the added layer of working outside the home.  (And I don't say that to incite any mommy war on SAHM vs. working mom, they're both rough, but for purposes of this blog post and my life, I can only give the working mom perspective on this one, um-kay?) 

 

I remember the first year with Lukas was hard for all the above-mentioned reasons.  And I think a first baby comes along with its own brand of difficulty that lucky you don't experience the second time around because you are just a bit more relaxed.  You know it all works out and the baby will do what the baby will do regardless of your good intentions.  But this working mom thing has been equally as hard the second time around.  And I'm trying to remember that conversation with my friend about not making major changes in the first year of a baby's life.

 

When the baby is itty bitty, it's hard to hand them over to someone else every day and be apart from them.  I don't think it matters who your caregiver is - I adore Julian's teachers at Primrose and have all the faith in them to take care of him and love him.  I honestly wouldn't feel any "better" about being away from him all day, every day if he were being watched by my mom or even my husband.  It's the fact that I, his mommy, am not with him for the majority of our day. There are plenty of days where I sit in my office staring at his pictures and ask myself why I'm doing this.  Being apart is just hard on the heart when they're so tiny. 

 

And the breastfeeding.  Oh the breastfeeding.  Actually, its the pumping while working that is a pain.  Having to stop working 2 or 3 times a day, hook up to my machine and literally milk my boobs like a cow, is disruptive to getting work done and frustrating because my body has decided it can't make enough milk to keep up with my little guy's eating schedule, so I have to supplement with formula anyway.  I often wonder why I bother continuing to breastfeed if he's getting formula, but I can't seem to get over the hump and quit.  Perhaps I'm worried about the hormonal shift that comes along with weaning and the possible post-weaning depression that might await me again.

 

And I'm tired.  Julian is still not consistently sleeping through the night.  I'd say he's 50/50 for sleeping all night long versus waking once a night to eat.  So half of my days at work have me feeling like a zombie and I'm sure it takes me twice as long to do anything due to the lack of sleep.  I'm not at my most efficient, that's for sure. 

 

I could really use a 25th hour in the day.  Preferably spent working out for 30 minutes and playing with the boys for 30 minutes, as most of my days don't allow enough time for those important activities.  I wish I had more time.  I want more time with the boys.  I want more time for myself.  I want to fit in my jeans again.  I want to go running outside and blare my crappy music loudly.  I want to go to a yoga class. I want to make Julian laugh and hear him yell MAMA MAMA MAMA over and over again.  I want to read books with Lukas.  I want to pretend to be superwoman while he runs around the house in his Spiderman outfit.  I want to make a floury mess in the kitchen while cooking dinner with Lukas.  I want to dance around the house holding on to both boys.  I want to do this every day.  But there's just not enough time between 6:15 when we get home from work/school and 7:45 when its bedtime for the boys.  1.5-2 hours an evening isn't enough time.  And this is the working mom struggle I'm yet again feeling so strongly.

 

I know it will lessen as my baby becomes a toddler.  I know that from experience this time, which is more than I knew when Lukas was an infant.  But juggling it all is hard.  And sometimes I just feel like all the balls have fallen on the ground and that I'm a complete failure.  But even worse is the constant wonder and worry if I'll look back on this time and regret the choices that I've made.  Maybe playing in the kitchen is more important than the kitchen you're playing in.  I know that my career is more than just the money I make and the things that money allows us to buy.  I've worked hard to be where I am.  The degrees and debt say this is true.  If it weren't for the degrees and the debt I think it'd be a lot easier to walk away and decide that time with my children supersedes everything else.  I just don't know.

 

For now, I keep telling myself that it is the quality rather than the quantity of time with the boys that matters.  I think there is truth to that, but I also think it's partially something I say to get myself to accept being away from them all day.

 

I think that I just never realized how truly strong my love for my children was going to be.  I didn't know how life altering having them would be.  I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's true.  Those two boys have changed me.  And there is nothing in my world as important as the two of them.  So I just hope I'm doing what's best for them.  Which is what is at the root of my questioning - what is best for them?  And is it the same thing that is best for me?  I have absolutely no idea.

Back to Oversharing

As you may have noticed, I took a bit of a hiatus from the blog.  I didn't intentionally turn away from it, it just sort of happened.  Julian was born in July.  I had 12 weeks of maternity leave.  I have been back to work full time since early October.  And since about mid-October I've been on this nonstop rollercoaster of failing and sailing (you like what I did there?).

 

Post-partum hormones are for real y'all!  I mean, like whoa.  I can go from laughing and happy to sobbing and feeling pitiful in 2.2 seconds flat.  The husband is wondering where his wife went and when she's coming back.  But in all seriousness, I had a depressive spell that started around month 3 and lasted for a while (and is still hanging around on occasion).  It felt similar to my post-weaning depression I experienced with Lukas, only I was still breastfeeding, so I thought it might be postpartum.  It might have been.  I'm not sure. 

 

What I do know is that I started seeing a therapist again and I love her. I have decided that everyone should be in therapy, even if nothing is "wrong" with your life.  She didn't give me any sort of label (which is why I'm not sure if it was or was not PPD) and she didn't prescribe any meds (honestly, I was sort of hoping she'd say, here's your zoloft prescription, now be off on your merry way).  What she did do was listen.  And offer unbiased advice on how to navigate what I was feeling and experiencing. It helps that she's a working mom of 3, who also breastfed her kids, so she really can relate. I think I cried the first 30-45 minutes of our first visit as I told her what was going on in my life.  But the next week (yes, I went weekly for a while), I maybe only cried for 5 mintues when talking about how hard it is to leave a little itty bitty baby every day to go to a job. 

 

And it is hard to leave an itty bitty baby.  Period.

 

Julian still isn't consistently sleeping through the night.  So I'm sleep deprived.  I went 6 months with no more than 4 hours of sleep at any given time.  This alone didn't help the crying.  We eventually resorted to crying it out (Julian, not me), which did work after 3 nights.  Night one consisted of 2 solid hours of screaming and my getting very drunk.  It was awful, but it did work.  For a week.  And then J got sick and he's back to co-sleeping with us and nursing on and off all night long.  On the plus side, my milk supply has gone back up and I love waking up to his sweet face every morning.  And I even smile when I wake up in the middle of the night to his little hands searching for me.  But I'm tired.  Very tired.

 

So the depression has lifted and the sleep has slightly improved but I'm still having a hard time.  I'm trying to figure out how to be a good mom to these two little boys who mean the world to me.  I struggle daily with fears that I'm yet again making a bad decision by working rather than being a stay-at-home-mom for them.  I think this is a normal fear when you have an itty bitty baby.  It lessons when your child gets a little older, at least it has for me with Lukas.  But it's hard.  And I'm not 100% confident in the decision I've currently made (i.e. to continue practicing law). 

 

But I have made one change that has been hugely helpful (and which has allowed me the freedom to write about this issue on the blog): I'm no longer pretending to anyone like this isn't really, really hard.  It sort of happened by accident.  In December we were really busy at work and I was working a lot.  I was still crying a lot too.  And one day my boss stopped by to see how I was doing and I just lost it.  I was completely honest with him and told him that I was struggling with working this much and being a mom and even said that at this time I wasn't willing to put in the hours necessary.  I am not willing to give up the little time I have with the boys at night and on the weekends to work.  I refuse to do it.  I said all this very uneloquently in between huge sobs and tears.  It was not pretty.  I'm confident he thought I was going to quit.  I was seriously considered quitting.  And then a weight sort of lifted.  My worst work fear had happened.  I had had the complete and total meltdown in front of my male boss.  And nothing bad happened because of it.  (At least not yet.  If I'm going to be penalized because I admit that being a working mom is hard, well then my firm isn't the firm I think it is, nor is it somewhere I want to continue my career.)  So far, being honest about the struggle has only helped.  I've been told that it's OK to flex my time and that there is no problem with my schedule as long as I'm getting my work done.  Who'd have thunk?

 

It's still hard, but it feels more manageable now that I'm proceeding in an honest way.  I'm not having to fake a happy face every single day or act like I don't have kids where work is concerned.  The fact of the matter is that I am a mother. I am also a lawyer.  And I am not the same lawyer now that I am a mom.  It took me two kids to fully realize this.  I am not going to worry about what people think when I leave the office a 4:30 to pick up my children.  I'm going to say I am taking my son to his orthotist appointment or his physical therapy appointment (oh yea, did I mention that Julian has torticollis and plagiocephaly and has been wearing a helmet for 8+ weeks?) rather than tell my colleagues I have "an appointment".  And when daycare is closed, I am going to take the day off rather than plunk my kids in front of the TV for 8 hours while I continue working.  Work can wait.  My kids cannot.  End of story.

 

So that's what I've been up to. Life is beautiful and motherhood is amazing.  I love these boys with all my heart.  But I'm also a complete mess and struggle every day to figure out what the hell I'm doing.  And it would help if I could zip up my old jeans, which I can't.  (Not even close).  At least I'm honest about it all.

Hormones are the Devil

I've been hesitant to write lately because if I write the truth it's not pretty.  And I don't like to sugarcaot things here so its been easier to just stay silent.  But I figure it's not doing anyone any favors for me to just sit here and give off the vibe that things are hunky dory when they're not.

 

About ten days ago a funk set it.  It started on a Saturday morning when I just didn't feel right.  Julian was hyperactive all morning and his kicks, jabs and headbutting made me feel off.  I was uncomfortable by his antics, but not in pain.  But I felt, well, blah.  Friends came over for a festival in our neighborhood and were a welcome distraction for a few hours.  After they left I could only convince myself to lay on the couch and moan to Mr. Cob.  The next day was Mother's Day.  My boys were sweet to me all day and we went to brunch with my parents.  I felt down most of that morning as well, but just chalked it up to being pregnant.  Later in the day we went to our good friends' house with a few other friends, but I didn't want to go.  I may have cried on the way over.  I just didn't have it in me to be cheerful.  Luckily these friends don't expect me to smile all the time and they get it.  Lukas enjoyed playing with his best friend and Mr. Cob had a nice break from me.  But I'd be lying if I said that the entire time we were gone I wasn't waiting to go home. 

 

The next day I had an OB appointment.  I mentioned to my doctor that I was feeling off and slightly depressed.  She asked if it was the same feeling that I had when the postpartum/post-weaning depression set in.  I told her it was close, but didn't feel that strong yet.  She said we'd keep an eye on it and to call her if it got much worse, but in the meantime she advised me to stop doing any "extra" stuff.  Meaning: go to work, take care of Lukas and chill out/relax.  So I'm trying to do that.

 

The rest of last week sort of floated by in a haze.  Work is busy and a welcome distraction. 

 

And then last Friday happened.  With the intention of filling out my weekly pregnancy survey I hopped on the scale to determine my weight gain for the week.  This was a mistake and was the push I didn't need to send me over the edge.  That was the moment the tears really started.  I went to work that morning in a major slump.  I shut my door and kept to myself.  But all day I was seriously down.  I had plans to go out with girlfriends that night, and had enough time to treat myself to a pedicure before dinner, hoping to relax.  It helped a bit.  Dinner and a 50 Shades of Grey musical parody helped a bit as well.  But I got home that night and resumed the sulking.

 

Saturday morning I woke up sad.  My in-laws were in town visiting and Mr. Cob convinced me to join the group for a walk to the local farmer's market.  I tried to be cheerful.  I failed.  I'm sure I was short with my in-laws.  I know I was short with my husband.  They all left me for the majority of the day to go watch Mr. Cob play two soccer games.  I sat on the couch and watched a Fast and the Furious marathon.  Paul Walker and Vin Diesel didn't even help.  That night we had plans to go out with a group of friends to dinner for my best friend's birthday.  I love my friend dearly, but I did not want to go.  I cried in the car ride to the restaurant and told Mr. Cob that I wasn't sure I could do it.  I just could not pretend to be happy at dinner and I did not want to go.  But we went.  Thankfully we went.  Dinner pulled me out of the funk a bit.  My BFF's honesty that "actually I looked good" made me laugh.  Not having to pretend I was OK was nice. I actually really enjoyed the evening.  It was a welcome change.

 

Sunday I woke up happy.  I cooked waffles from scratch and we spent the day at the Aquarium.  My little man held my hand as we looked at the fish.  His amazement and joy made me smile.  I started to feel like me again.  I hoped it would last. 

 

It didn't.  Monday morning I cried within 5 minutes of being at work.  A very small thing sent me over the edge again.  And I cried on and off for the morning.  Mr. Cob took me out to lunch.  We talked about whether or not my behavior was similar to the post-weaning depression and he said he thought it was.  I think he's right.

 

So I'm left deciding what to do.  I have 8 weeks until Julian is due.  That's not a short period of time when we're talking about depression and sadness.  I did some research and I don't feel comfortable taking any medication.  Apparently acupuncture has helped some women in this situation, so I'm going to do some research on that.  And last night I downloaded a new pregnancy relaxation/meditation program.  I feel asleep half way through the meditation, but I felt calm while I was awake.  And I slept all night without waking up.  And today I haven't cried and I don't feel quite as down.  Here's to hoping the meditation and renewed effort to exercise helps keep the stress and sadness away.

 

Despite the sadness, the sincere truth is that I am so excited to be having this baby.  And I cannot wait to meet him.  I look forward to being up in the middle of the night with him nursing him and smelling that sweet newborn smell.  I know Lukas is going to be an awesome big brother and my heart bursts just thinking about the two boys growing up together.

 

But it's not sunshine and roses every day right now.  On the one hand, I am overjoyed to be pregnant and expanding our family.  I hope to be pregnant at least one more time in the future. (Crazy, perhaps).  But the day to day part of it is hard right now.  My poor husband is bearing the brunt of it, and he's been amazing.  Nothing he says helps.  Nothing he does helps.  But he keeps trying and more importantly, he keeps showing up.  He lets me be sad.  He lets me lay on the couch.  He lets me complain and he still loves me.  For this I am thankful. 

 

So that's what it's feeling like to be 32 weeks pregnant right now.  There are some sad days and some really happy days.  And I'm just really hoping the scale tips back permanently to the happy side soon.  I don't like this glass half empty side of myself.

My Mental Health Update

Because I just can't help but overshare, I'm back to talk about my mental health.

I feel like me again.  Actually, I started feeling like me again within a few days of starting on Zoloft.  I suspect this was the medication working.  My anxiety lessened.  My constant fear of failing at everything in my life lifted.  And most important, the immediate screaming voice inside my head urging me to make a sudden major life change finally shut up.  I no longer need to change everything in my life at that very moment.  And that was how I was feeling before I started on the antidepressant.

I do think the medicine is to thank for the quick fix and lifting the dark veil that I was swimming under.  But I also think the therapist helped me sort out things in my head.  And things were quite muddled in my head.  I yet again felt like I was doing my child a disservice by working.  I had convinced myself (again) that he was better off with me than in school all day long.  Finally after talking to my therapist, I realized the root of my problem: I had somehow developed the notion that the only way to be a good mom was to ONLY be a mom.  I was telling myself that I was already failing because I was not devoting all of my time and energy into being a mom.  I wasn't taking this mom thing seriously because it wasn't all I was doing.  I really thought that I wasn't a good mom since I had another title other than "mom".

My therapist helped me see the flaw in this reasoning (if you can even call it that).  Being a good mom is not dependent on being "just" a mom.  I can be a good mom AND also be a lawyer.  And perhaps, some of the things that make me a good mom are because I'm more than "just mom". 

We talked about the reasons I thought I'd be happier staying at home with Lukas.  And we talked about what the reality of that change would look like day to day.  We talked about the difficulties my SAHM friends tell me they have and my fears that I'd have those same difficulties, plus some.  We talked about how happy Lukas really is at school and how he's developing socially and why I think I need to change his environment when he really is thriving.  We talked about the fact that I'm jealous of my stay at home mom friends, but at the same time I'm thrilled to go to work and be an "adult" most days of the week.  We talked about how I love the people I work with and how my boss is amazing.  We talked about how I'm lucky to have female mentors at my firm who are mothers and are paving the way for more mom-partners at the firm.  We talked about what all I've done to get to this point in my career and whether or not I could really leave it behind to "just" be a mom.  We talked about what is really important to me and she helped me discover that I really do want more kids sooner rather than later even though that might slow my career a little.  We talked about my friendships and how friendships change when one friend becomes a mom and jumps into that new life when the other friend is still childless and unattached.  We talked about effectively communicating with your spouse. 

We're continuing to talk.

Before getting a therapist for myself, I didn't know the benefits of having one.  But now I think everyone really can benefit from some therapy.  And you might be surprised by the things that come out of your mouth when you're talking to an unbiased third party.  I know I was.

This whole experience has been a big lesson for me.  I realized that I was worried about what people would think about my decision to take an antidepressant and see a therapist.  I didn't want anyone to know.  I was worried about being judged.  I even went so far as to decide to stop writing this blog because I didn't want you all to know what was really going on in my head and my life.  I wanted to keep up the appearance that I have it all together.  That I was "doing it all".  

But instead of being judged, I was embraced and reminded that I'm not alone.  Other moms go through these exact same feelings of insecurity and questioning.  And for those of you that have and continue to reach out and share your own experiences and troubles with being a mom, I thank you. 

Serious Stuff Aside

If my blog had any sort of theme then this post would make no sense.  But it's not that sort of blog.  So I'm going to not talk about depression or Lukas or being a laywer or my mom-life or anything of any sort of substance for a second.  Because I have some breaking news to share.  Seriously, it's big.

Do you want to guess?

Go ahead, I'll wait.

I bet you didn't guess.

No, I'm not knocked up.

No, I am not the Weakest Link.

Ok, are you ready?

Here it is:  I have not washed my hair the last two days.  Today is day 3 of unwashed hair.

And yes, this is news.

I'm a wash your hair every day sort of girl. It is painfully obvious if I skip a day.

Or it was.

Until I found Suave Keratin Infusion Dry Shampoo.  A.mazing.  Seriously.  Go buy it.  You'll love it.  You'll be able to get ready for work in half the time without having to blow dry your hair every day.  Which is huge if you're trying to get a toddler dressed and ready for school or handling a little problem like your A/C backing up and stealthily seeping water down your walls.

Oh yeah, that.  Our A/C had a little hiccup.  Our house now sounds like a wind tunnel and is housing 5 industrial sized fans, two dehumidifiers and is missing part of the laundry room floor and door frame.  Thank goodness for homeowners insurance.

And dry shampoo.

Some days it's the little things.

And let's be honest.  I was glad to have the antidepressant prescription today too.

Dry shampoo and zoloft.  A winning combination for life's curveballs.

Therapy Has Been Good

I need to say a big thank you to my amazing readers, friends and family.  I didn't give y'all enough credit.  I thought I would be judged for admitting the truth about my struggles and for the course of action I'm taking to deal.  But I should've known that there would be no judgement.  The response to my last post was only that of love.  And understanding.

I was honestly shocked by the emails, texts and messages I received.  As it would turn out, I'm not alone in this.  Some of my friends who I have always thought had it "totally together" admitted to struggling with anxiety or depression, or both.  Others shared that they too were taking antidepressants.  And yet others shared the fact that they were in therapy and wished me well in my own.  This outpouring of support has been amazing.  So thank you to all of you who have shared your own honest, personal stories with me.  It means more than I can tell you.

I've had some insightful conversations over the past week that have truly helped me put things in perspective.   Some with friends.  Others with my fantastic therapist.  I realized that while I have always thought myself to be very open and honest on this blog, I tend to put a positive spin when writing about whatever it is I'm going through.  Perhaps without even realizing I was doing it.  I try to find the happy in everything.  I do believe happiness is a choice and most of the time I choose to be joyful and see the glass half full.  Or my writing portrays that.  I think in a way I've wanted to believe I could do it all with a smile on my face.  I wanted to hide the struggle and the questioning.  I wanted to give others hope that they could do it too.  I was putting pressure on myself to have it all together.  And that's just not what was going on.


The past few months have been a perfect storm of "too much" in my little life.  I stopped nursing Lukas, which alone was a highly emotional experience for me.  Mix in the change in hormones.  Add on extreme pressure at work, being at least 2 men down on our team for a few months, and my busiest month of billing in five years.  Throw in worry about my mom being sick (she's fine, we've thankfully just learned) and her and my dad going away on an extended trip.  A good mom-friend moved away.  All combined with feeling like I wasn't spending enough time with Lukas or my husband and never catching up on the laundry, the grocery shopping, phone calls with friends or partaking in my favorite hobby (writing).  The result was just an emotional meltdown.


I am thankful that the antidepressant worked so quickly.  I am thankful it was there to get me over the hump. I wish I hadn't waited so long to call my doctor to get the prescription.  I wish I had listened to my girlfriends when they urged me to call my OB.  Next time I will know not to wait so long.  Next time I won't allow myself to feel "defeated" for not being able to handle my mental health on my own.  Modern medicine is a gift and sometimes it is needed.  This time, in this instance, it was totally needed.


I'm starting to feel more like myself again.  I hope/think my post-weaning hormones are getting back to normal.  I no longer feel an immediate urgency to change something in my life.  My need to make a rash life shift has gone away.  Thankfully I didn't act on my swinging emotions without giving myself time to figure out what I really want.  I'm not sure what that is yet.  But I'm going to keep trying to figure it out.


In the meantime I'm going to give myself a break.  I'm going to take off all the pressure and just roll with life and see where we go.

The Post that Vanished

So, some of you may have seen the below post on Tuesday of this week.  It was up for a few hours and then was mysteriously taken down.  And by mysteriously taken down, I mean I removed it.  I posted it without thinking too much about the consequences and about the fact that I was doing the one thing I try not to do: announce/elude to something on the blog before I've told my family and close friends.  So I wanted to take down the post and at the very least,talk to my mom.  Turns out she saw the post in the two hours it was up.  And the post wasn't even news to her - as I should've known, even across the country in California, she's known something has been going on with me.  Then after I removed the post, something didn't feel right.  I felt like I was hiding by choosing to stop writing, and that's not what I'm about.   In the event that other women are going through something similar, I've decided to keep writing and to open up about what's going on.  But before that, the vanished post:

TTT: Know Your Limits

This post is framed as a tip so that I don't miss a Toddler Tips Tuesday post.  But it's more of an admission and an explanation.


The truth is that I am overextended right now. 


Everything feels like "too much" and something has got to give.  Right now, the thing to give is going to be this blog. 


I love writing and I love sharing my parenting journey with all of you, but lately it is feeling like yet another obligation and a burden. 


I try to be as genuine as possible on this blog and I haven't been totally forthcoming lately, so rather than continue to pretend everything is sunshine and rainbows, I'm going to stop writing publicly on the blog for a while.  The post-weaning depression did not go away on it's own.  It got worse.  So I'm sure that has something to do with my overwhelmed feelings of late.  But I'm not prepared to share that personal aspect of my life just yet. I'm dealing with it and I hope to talk about that at some point, just not right now.


I'm continuing again to struggle with the pulls of being a mom and wife and lawyer.  So for the time being, rather than put extra energy into keeping up this blog, I'm going to focus on my family and try to figure some things out.  And I think I need to sort these things out privately, rather than in a public venue, regardless of how few people read this blog.


So thank you for following over the past few years.  I plan on writing again and picking this blog back up, I'm just not sure when that will be.  It could be next week, or it could be in a year.  At this point, I'm not sure.

So, let me explain.  The biggest things has been the fact that the post-weaning depression was real and really did not go away.  Here's the post I wrote a few weeks ago, but chickened out rather than posting:

Weaning Depression: Full Disclosure

So I have been debating whether or not to write this post. My general rule is not to post anything on the blog that could cause a phone call from my mom or close friends asking me something along the lines of "why did I learn about this from your blog?". This post will cause those phone calls. If you're reading this and you don't know about this yet, I'm sorry. I just haven't been up for talking about it.



The sadness, despair and tears after weaning didn't stop. Four weeks later, they were still there. It all came to a head last week. I couldn't stop crying at work. As in, had the door shut all day and just sobbed at my desk. Nothing was wrong, yet I couldn't stop crying. Everything seemed horrible and amplified. I called Mr. Cob at one point and cried to him and said that I just couldn't do it anymore. Everything was too hard. Work was too much and I just felt like I was failing. He told me to call the doctor. I promised I would, but was lying. Luckily, my phone rang shortly thereafter. A woman I consider my mentor called me and asked how I was doing. I said fine and she said "you don't sound fine." And the flood gates opened. And I told her how I just felt like I was constantly on the verge of a panic attack. How I was sobbing for no reason. How it just felt like too much. And she said she understood and that she'd had similar issues after weaning. And she convinced me to hang up the phone and call my doctor. Like, right now. So I did. I called my OB and talked to the nurse and explained what was going on. She talked to the doctor and then called me back saying the doctor was calling me in a prescription for an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant. And she gave me the name of a few therapists.

So I filled the prescription and have been taking it for a week. I was more depressed and sad the first two days. Part of me felt completely defeated for not being able to deal with this on my own. A part of me worried what my family and friends would think. A part of me worried it wouldn't help.


Day 3 I woke up feeling better. I haven't cried uncontrollably for no reason. I haven't had the horrible anxiety. I haven't felt lost or sad. I finally am starting to feel like me again.


And tomorrow morning I go to see a therapist. As a wise woman recently told me, a little therapy is good for everyone.

I don't want to take medicine for a long time, but I was to the point of struggling to function at work and get through my day. So I'm glad I called the doctor. I'm trying not to feel embarrassed. But for some reason I am. Even writing this post, I question whether I'll actually post it for the world. Actually, it's not the world I'm concerned about. It's those I'm close to.


So for now, the truth is that I am taking an antidepressant and I'm seeing a therapist.  These are big, personal things that I have very mixed emotions about.  But if I'm going to keep writing this blog, then I must keep being honest and right now, Zoloft and therapy are my truth.  Thankfully, they are also working.  More on that soon....