Once again, I am an open book when it comes to the postpartum depression I experienced with my now three year old son Henry. I have written multiple blog posts about it and shared how I managed to finally overcome the depression after almost having a nervous breakdown. I am currently bottle feeding my newborn son, Simon, and taking depression and anxiety medication as a precautionary measure.
These posts have really seemed to resonate with my readers. It’s not very often that a woman actually puts her mental health issues out there for the world to read. Saying you experienced something that personal normally comes with a stigma.
Two weeks. I cannot believe that it has already been two weeks since Baby Simon was brought into this world. Two weeks since my husband and I welcomed our second son, the final piece of our little family. Two weeks since I had a human surgically removed from my body. Two weeks since my three year old, Henry, became a big brother. Two weeks since I have been the mom of a toddler and a newborn.
It absolutely blows my mind how much my life has changed in the last two weeks. Things are going well for us. It’s definitely not all rainbows and unicorns around here though.
There were a lot of topics I considered writing about for my first post-baby blog post. But since I have been so open about my experience with postpartum depression after having Henry, I thought that sharing how things are going this time around would be fitting.
Mental health is so important. It also happens to be something that isn’t talked about. There is a stigma surrounding people that bring up the fact they need help. It’s a taboo subject. People judge others that admit they have mental health issues. And I’m not okay with that.
Another real life, honest to goodness post from me. Do you expect anything else now?
This one is about good ol’ maternity leave. The day has arrived for me! Today was my last day at work before giving birth. I will have three whole work days off before I go in for a c-section Thursday morning and get to meet my sweet baby boy.
People have been asking me if I’m excited for my maternity leave.
Of course I’m excited, I get to meet the final member of our little family. I get to spend time with him and my three year old and get lots of snuggles and not have to worry about meetings and checking my email and making sure i’m off in time to pick the kids up from the sitter.
This last couple weeks have been a real doozy for me when it comes to parenting. As in, I have #momfailed more than normal. Right when I think I can’t get any more mediocre as a parent, something like this happens.
I have heard that three is worse than two. That is when your child turns into a “threenager” and really learns how to mouth off and perfect the art of tantrum throwing. But I also heard that two was the hardest year. And before that, having a newborn was the hardest. Then, the parents with pre-teens and teenagers were always there saying, “Just wait, it gets much worse.”
Three and a half weeks. Just three and a half more weeks until this baby enters the world. Three and a half really long, super uncomfortable, very swollen weeks. Three and a half more weeks of people asking me when the baby is due and then looking shocked when I tell them I still have almost a month to go.
There is a laundry list of things I have three and half weeks left of. I am going to summarize some of the most asked questions below. Not that they really bother me, but because it is becoming difficult to talk with this large child crushing all my organs.
You know how some people say their kids are really bad then you meet them and they are tiny angels? My toddler is not one of those kids. He is the kid that is very mischevious. He is constantly running, yelling, jumping and getting into trouble.
Yes, he is a little three year old boy, but the amount of damage he can do in a short amount of time blows my mind. He has earned the name Hurricane Henry. He has the stubborn nature of both me and my husband combined with blond hair, blue eyes and an adorable fat face.
Mom guilt. Literally the entire reason I started this blog. As a resource that other okay moms out there can refer to when they are hiding in their bathroom eating chocolate and drinking coffee. You know, just so they can escape their children for more than two minutes. Yes, they may be sticking their fat little hands under the crack of the door and yelling your name because the need you to pick up the blankie they dropped, but you don’t have to respond because you are “taking a shower”.
I actually did this on Mother’s Day and it was delightful. I sat in the bathroom at 7:30 am, ate an entire bag of brownie brittle and drank my coffee with the shower running.
There is something that has really been bothering me lately. An issue that I feel needs to be discussed. Something I can honestly say most women struggle with. And something we are passing onto our kids WAY too soon.
Body image. Ugh. The worst.
As a woman, it is something that has haunted me from the age of about ten. It’s something that’s continually on my mind. Especially when talking with friends. We are all complaining about weight gained, weight lost, our latest diet, how we shouldn’t be eating this or that, plastic surgeries we hope to get one day, the newest laser treatments, and the list goes on and on.
I have an almost three year old little boy and another baby boy on the way in about eight weeks. And I have absolutely zero idea what I am doing as a parent. I am completely and totally clueless. I thought by now I would have learned something, but I continue to be thrown into completely unpredictable situations by these tiny humans.
I honestly thought I had a good chunk of it figured out with Henry, my toddler. The kid is wild and crazy, but can also be so sweet and melt my mom heart with one hug. He loves to climb, jump, and do things that are insanely dangerous but manage to charm everyone in his warpath.