The first couple of weeks with Avery were a breeze. I mean, we were tired, but she was low maintenance. Eat. Sleep. Poop. That's it. She had small moments of being awake but her personality seemed to be headed toward low key like Dan. Right around 2-3 weeks, it started it change.
It started off with witching hours. Fussy times every other day or so in the evenings. It then tail spinned into fill blown colicky behaviors. Behaviors that we are still battling fiercely. We have good days. We also have bad days. It's rough. There is screaming. Crying. Lost sleep. Then there are the things the baby is doing. HA.
There have been days....many of them....that I didn't feel like I was cut out to be a mom. Those were the hardest of all. I wanted this baby. So why did I suddenly...not? I have dealt with a touch of postpartum depression. I hate admitting that, but it's real. The baby blues have lasted longer for me than they really should. Some days, the fog was so thick. The days dragged by so slowly. I had to have Dan rush home because both Avery and I were crying so hard. Nothing felt right in those moments. I have to shove her off to Dan so I can take a walk or a drive.
Sadly, I had a bad day in front of my inlaw's recently, and it all went bad. It was a bad day full of Avery crying non-stop. I snapped and I got accused of over-reacting and having a bad attitude. I left and took an hour long drive. And I didn't want to go back. Dan had to tell them my secret. They witnessed what should have been a private moment, not understanding what this colic is doing to me on a mental capacity. His mom sat there defending Dan....said she would always be on his side. Just. WOW. Dan told her he needed for them to be on OUR side.
That was the worst moment so far of my PPD. I hope the experiences I have going forward aren't nearly as crummy.
And because this post got a little depressing...you deserve a cute baby:
