As I remove the carseat from the back of the car and click it into the stroller my mind begins to race.

Where will I go?

How can I do this without being seen?

Will there be somewhere to relax?

How can I avoid people seeing?

I dread every second.

The baby begins to cry and my heart begins to race. I feel the sweat, the dread.

I pick him up and hold him close. I gather the necessities: the receiving blanket, diaper and wipes.

I walk.

I open the door and search for the biggest area that is private. Sealed off from seeing eyes.

I close the door behind me and  I sit on the floor.

The floor of a public washroom where I feed my baby.

Continue reading →

I let my kids wear clothes with stains.

Carter sometimes puts dirt in his mouth.

If he wants Nutrigrain bars for breakfast, I’m OK with that.

They may not have a bath for a few days.

Hudson may even wear the same sleeper for an entire day.

The dirty diapers may sit on the living room floor.

And may even be in close proximity to a sippy cup.

The kitchen table has food in the cracks.

I don’t know how long it’s been there.

The floor hasn’t been mopped in over a month.

If Carter falls off the side of the deck, I don’t go running to see if he’s okay.

Instead it sit in my lawn chair and encourage him to shake it off.

I use my laptop in the backyard during playtime.

I have been known to have a drink or two around my children.

I let Hudson sit in the swing while I sit on the couch, blogging.

My laundry is washed and folded.

But it sits in random piles throughout my house.

I let Carter even dress himself for daycare sometimes.

He wears rubber boots on the hottest day of the summer and I don’t mind.

My car hasn’t been cleaned for a really long time.

There’s empty sippy cups littering the backseat.

They don’t stink, so I’m not worried.

I wear my pajamas to drop my son off at daycare.

I wear jogging pants, even when I leave the house.

My roots have grown out.

My bangs are in desperate need of a trim.

I leave the house without makeup.

I buy donuts for lunch sometimes.

I couldn’t be happier.

I.

Am.

BETA MOM.

As I begin to compare the relationship I’ve had with Carter during his infancy compared to how I relate to Hudson now, I see considerable differences.

[Yes, being a parent the second time around is easier since I've been there before. I am more calm, relaxed and ready for situations that may arise: but even still, this is different.]

When Carter arrived I wasn’t as attached as I had thought I would be. I never was uncomfortable or unsure of our relationship, but I was irritated and resentful more so then I am now. Carter’s cries used to be like nails on a chalk board in the middle of the night where as I find a comfort in Hudson’s. I feel the urge to comfort him rather then resent him for disrupting my sleep.

I remember sitting on the couch with Carter and bawling because I just wanted to go to bed; this time around I find myself relaxed and enjoying the peacefulness of the late night hours: though exhaustion is just as prevalent as last time, it doesn’t consume me like before.

I feel a sense of peace with Hudson.

I wish more then anything I could do back and have that with Carter.

I wish that I could be the calm and relaxed parent I am now when Carter was days old.

But there are no re-dos.

Now that I look back more frequently, I see more signs of my apparent PPD then I thought I had - considering I didn’t even know I had it.

Even though I can’t make up for the times that I wanted nothing more then to shake him as he wailed or the horrible thoughts I had of ways I could make him quite I can, and have, moved forward from there and have become the parent (I hope) that he deserves. I love him more then anything and it pains me to my very core that I had thoughts like that about my child.

The embarrassment I have just for having those thoughts is unbearable: and though they are ‘normal’ - and no one really knows about them since I never shared them with anyone - I can’t help but feel a sense of failure as a parent to Carter during his infancy.

I wish I could forget.

Though I can’t make up for how I was - since it wasn’t even my fault - I can be grateful that I have changed and the depression hasn’t taken control of me again.

God, I wish I had this blog during that time. Maybe having written it all down then would have brought it all to light a little sooner for me. Maybe I would have been able to see it later on, you know, rather then hearing it from a social worker while I was in the hospital a day after giving birth to Hudson.

And here I thought for the longest time - up until about 2 weeks ago - that it was situational depression that brought on my need for anti-depressants and now that my thoughts have cleared, hormones have evened out and we’ve settled into more of a routine it’s become more and more apparent to me that it just might have been PPD instead. It pains me to know that I went through all that ‘alone’ and in the dark since I was never told what I was facing and that only NOW I realize just what has been going on.

Had we not had Hudson, I really wonder if I would ever have known that I suffered from PPD.

You know what absolutely drives me up the wall? Well, there’s A LOT. But based on the amount of bitching and whining I’ve done on this blog in the past six months (which has completely killed your liking to COMMENT on this piece of shit) you’ve probably got a god handle on what really gets under my skin.

Hold on, hold on. This post isn’t (entirely) about pregnancy!

I know! Miracle, right?

I waddled my fat ass to a table in a very busy food court in Costco over my lunch hour. Mostly because they have excellent poutine and I craved it like crazy, but I also had to pick up diapers and pull-ups for daycare (Dude, we’re potty training starting tomorrow! Pray for me!).  Just as my dear friend put her last fry in her mouth an elderly lady and, presumably, her grandson began meandering towards our table. Before my friend could even swallow they were hovering over us like vultures on prey at the side of a desert highway.

I hadn’t even picked up my jacket before the lady sat her fat decrepit ass  on the bench and proceeded to motion for her horde family to follow.

Dude, you could at least let the pregnant lady get her footing before you practically fling me and my belongings on the floor.

And I went all quite.

I didn’t even say anything.

Not a peep.

I think we were so shocked by their actions I couldn’t even say something if I wanted.

Besides, whose side would you take? The poor defenseless old lady with a cane or a hormonal pregnant woman? It’s really a catch 22 I’d say.

But! The Husband-Who-Is-Not-Even-Worthy-Of-That-Title-At-This-Moment is at home.

He just arrived home.

Early.

On a Friday.

Do you think he would have stopped and picked up Carter from daycare on his way to save me the trip since I did do some grocery shopping on my lunch break?

Nope.

Not even an offer.

[I just happened to know he was home because my MSN flashed that I had signed on another computer.]

Can’t go off on an old lady in Costco that I won’t ever see again… but I do tear a couple strips off a man that I have to be cooped up in the house with once this snow storm hits this evening.

Shear Brilliance.

I’ll probably do it again once I get home too.

What can I say? Glutton for punishment? Maybe. But that sure was a dick move if you ask me.