There’s so much going on these days that it’s really hard to keep up with a blog as well. I think about it daily and want to write, it’s just that trying to find the time to sit down and write has become quite a chore.

I’ve spent the last week feeling extremely guilty about the lack of time that I’ve had to devote to Carter. Since Hudson is a nursing machine, it feels as though Carter’s fallen to the wayside as I try and pay attention to his needs as well as constantly having a newborn latched to my boob. So this week, we’ve begun adding an additional day of daycare to keep Carter more active and engaged with other children as well as fill his day with activity rather then playing alone and watching hours of television. Not only is it better for him to have the structure and socialization, it gives me a chance to spend one-on-one time with Hudson, just like Carter got when he was an infant.

In some ways I feel as though I’ve taken the easy way out by sending my child off to his junior preschool class three days a week. It feels as though, I can’t cut it as a stay-at-home mom to two children (Ridiculous, right?) - even though I know it’s best for Carter to have his space and time away from us.

I sound like I’m trying to justify my reasons for him going to daycare still; I think I may also have guilt that I am.

I really can’t win. I feel guilty regardless of the choice I make.

All I know is my boys are damn cute.

I’ve been somewhat help free since Day 4. Somewhat meaning I’ve had my dad coming over for a couple hours in the afternoon on Tuesday and Thursday to help out with cutting the lawn and things like that, and Wednesday and Friday (today) Carter is in daycare. But! I feel like I am totally getting the hang of this - for now.

Granted there is really no routine and I haven’t ventured out of the house alone with both boys - aside from dropping Carter off at daycare - I haven’t felt overly stressed or out of control. Yet.

I’ve been able to manage laundry and dishes as well through out the day, even to have my dad say how surprised he was that the house was so tidy, which made me feel a little more confident in my abilities to parent two children as well as ‘manage’ a household.

Hudson is the most laid back and mellow baby ever. Even when we’re up from 2am to 5am (like last night) there’s no screeching and crying (from either of us), he just eats, burps, shits and looks around at his new surroundings.

I remember when Carter came home and we were learning to nurse. Nights were horrific. I dreaded getting out of bed, sitting up alone and stressing over trying to feed my baby. I would cry almost every night out of shear exhaustion and the need for my bed. For some reason it really never dawned on my that I CAN sleep when the baby sleeps. I would stay up late and not rest during the day leaving me tired and anxious as night time feeds came around.

This time is totally different. Ya, I start to worry a little as 4:30am rolls around and Carter will be up in a mere 3 - 4 hours, meaning that my day will HAVE to start then or I will face the wrath of a bossy little toddler shaking me and informing me that “IT’S WAKE UP TIME MOMMY!!” But there is no anxious feelings, there is no (more) crying and I’ve actually enjoyed sitting in my armchair in the living room watching shows that I’ve DVR’d throughout the day to save for night time. (Like So You Think You Can Dance - I never watched that show before and I am so totally addicted to this season already!!)

Could be that I’ve lucked out with a totally laid back baby or my confidence level has increased immensely since Carter was an infant - even both. But the tears have more or less passed and I feel like I am becoming my old self again. Physically, it took me a good 2 months postpartum with Carter to get to this point: after only 9 days.

Being home all day with two small children and having the confidence that I can do this without royally fucking them up makes it all that more enjoyable.

I dread the thought of this house of cards falling to a heap now that I’ve opened my big mouth. I can just picture myself sitting here Monday and crying into my keyboard because Carter’s been a little hellion and Hudson hasn’t stopped crying in 4 days.

If that’s the case, I WILL have a little coffee to mix with my Bailey’s please.

Even though Hudson’s only been here for 7 days, it feels like I’ve known him forever. Even after one week I can’t imagine life without his precious little face, beautiful bright eyes and adorable little toes.

It’s impossible not to see the joy that he brings to his Big Brother. The love that Carter shows is immeasurable. Carter would do anything for Baby Hudson.

As would the rest of us.

My boys.

Things are going good on this end. There’s a complete lack of schedule and a newborn baby who requires to eat for about 2 hours at a time at night. I’ve been supplementing with 2oz of formula still in order to keep my sanity through those hours between 8pm and 5am. As weepy and teary as I am, I’d love to think that I can just lie down and sleep when Hudson does, but there is this rambunctious and crazy toddler that needs attention throughout the day as well. That toddler, who has independently decided that there is no longer need for nap time.

We’ll see about that buddy. The jury is still out on you.

Hudson’s doctor visit went well yesterday; he’s gaining weight and everything looks wonderful. As I was preparing for the trip there I took a moment to read over my sheet from the hospital that was to be delivered to my doctor - The Sheet. It holds all the information regarding the birth and my stay at the hospital.

Also some tidbits that I hadn’t been aware of.

My file states that I have “unresolved postpartum depression controlled by medication”.

Say wha’?

After my pregnancy with Carter I started taking anti-depressants. The stress of changes, money and a husband that was working constantly to keep us afloat had finally taken it’s toll and I needed some outside help. I’ve been taking them for just about a year and a half and things have been significantly better.

During this hospital stay I felt as though I was being watched a little more closely and that I was being judged just a little more. Treated more like a first-time mom if you will. A social worker came to visit me to see how I was coping, the nurses paid a little more attention and if I was seen crying it was as though they had to stay and watch vigil over me.

Maybe it was them being nice.

Or maybe it was them following protocol of extra special care for the depressed lady: the “Damaged Goods staying in room 113″.

I’m in no way ashamed or embarrassed to say that I have postpartum depression - if that’s the case. But. IF that IS the case, I feel like I should have been told: Yes this IS postpartum depression and I shouldn’t have been left to feel like people are walking around on eggshells and I’m going to go off the deep end if they use The Term with me. I think I’m even more shocked that my doctor never said to me: This sounds like PPD. She just said: Yes I think what you’re feeling are symptoms of depression and we’ll try out this drug.

Is it that it’s just a medical term that is thrown around because one would seek help within the first year of giving birth? Is it that I’ve shown other symptoms that I wasn’t aware I was showing? I mean, I never once felt fear of my child, I never removed myself from situations where he was concerned and I bonded with him immediately. All signs that I thought I wasn’t suffering from PPD but just a situational depression related to OTHER aspects of my life.

Apparently I was wrong. I don’t know.

I just know that I’ve been given that label of Postpartum Depression and wasn’t aware of it in the first place. Then to be treated as though I may be a harm to my children I almost find insulting. It’s enough to cope with having a newborn and a toddler, all the while dealing with raging hormones and any lack of any structure in my life at the moment. But to have people assume that “Oh she’s crying because she has depression, she must be watched more.” hurts. It angers me and makes me feel even a little confused.

Why was I labeled and not told about it? Why have I been given this mark of “damaged goods” and wasn’t even aware of it?

* If you haven’t read this guest post by Megan from Velveteen Mind over at Plain Jane Mom, do it now - it’s well worth the read.