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I officially just placed my order for birth announcements. Isn't he lovely? (:

Today I feel blah.

Today I feel blah.

I feel listless and hollow like I'm going through all the motions.

Such is the beauty of postpartum depression.

Most of the time I do a fairly decent job of ignoring it. I stay busy. I sleep. I take care of the kids. I watch tv. I read a book. I play on Facebook. I play with my daughter.

Today, it's not working. So I feel listless and hollow.

It's a weird, bothersome feeling. It makes me feel like I should go lay down... but I can't. Two kids have a lot of needs, needs that come before my own. I'm not bitter about that. It's sometimes nice having two people that depend on me. It keeps me going and gives me purpose.

Still. There are days like today when those two little people needing me doesn't feel like enough to keep me sane. I feel loose and liquid like I could slip through my own fingers. For a control freak like myself, that's a very unsettling feeling. I need, have, to be in control at all times. Don't ask me why because I'm not even sure myself, and today I don't have the energy to psychoanalyze myself to death as I usually would.

Depression feels like a weakness. It's a weakness I've battled for as long as I can remember. Literally. There's been times that it's gotten so bad, I've felt as if I were at the bottom of a dark, deep pit with no visible way out. That's a terrible feeling. Over the years, I've become particularly adept at ignoring things that bother me. I bottle, bundle, shove it under the bed, and pretend it doesn't exist. Maybe that's not healthy, but it gets me by from day to day, which is sometimes just enough. I despise depression. I hate admitting to it. I don't want people to look at me and think, She's not in control. Because the truth is - when you're depressed, you're not in control.

That said, I don't look at others who are depressed as if they are weak. Yes, I know. A double standard. We are our own worst critics.

So today I feel blah. I feel a little better writing about it, though. It's good to have an outlet, even if you're talking to a bunch of people online that you don't even know at all.

And now I'm signing off because the toddler is up and around and wanting to touch my laptop screen and asking a bazillion questions and generally just being... a toddler.

Ahhh, the joys of mommyhood.

Labor, aka My Near-Death Experience

I went in to be induced Tuesday, June 28, 2011. The midwife told me not to expect to have my baby for sure that day because inductions often take quite some time.

I was 2 cm, 60% before Pitocin at 9.30 am. However, Pitocin didn't really serve to stimulate good contractions. (They were just like the contractions I'd be having for FIVE weeks.) At 11.30, the midwife came in to check me. I was 3 cm, 70% so she broke my water.

Contractions started IMMEDIATELY. And boyyy were they intense.

I'd already decided against an epidural so they brought me a birthing ball. After an hour or so of deep breathing through contractions while hubby rubbed my back, I had finally had enough. I asked for Nubain. They told me I had to get off the birthing ball because it would cause fatigue.

Into the bed I went! My contractions were coming HARD and FAST. My mom, hubby, and sister all hovered around my bedside, and whoever happened to be closest was the one who got caught in my deadly vice grip as I continued to breathe through contractions. The Nubain (and Phenergan they gave me for nausea) made me all kinds of loopy - as in I was having trouble finishing sentences because I'd lose my train of thought as soon as I opened my mouth. And it didn't even help with the pain. =/

At about 3 pm (three and a half hours of hard labor), I practically begged for the epidural. I was in tears because all I could think was that I was going to have to do this for HOURS! The midwife came in and checked me and said, "Oh, no, you're eight centimeters. He'll probably be here at around four. I really don't think you'll push for more than 15 minutes. You're doing great; you don't need the epidural."

I wasn't hearin' NONE of it. I wanted the epidural!!!

I didn't get the epidural.

She told me to start bearing down during contractions, but not pushing. I can't describe the pain I felt. It was beyond what I'd expected. Breathing deep and focusing on the END of the contraction was the only thing that got me through.

At about 3.30, they set me up to start pushing. The midwife told me, "Know how I told you 15 minutes? I don't even think it'll be that long. He's ready to come out."

They told me to hold my breath and push as hard as I could but to try not to yell or scream. Which in itself is a funny thought when a woman is pushing a watermelon out of her vajayjay. But I digress.

I only shouted once. I was a very good girl and did as I was told. And then, after about two good, hard pushes, they told me to stop pushing! Stop pushing?!?! Had she really lost her mind now?!!!!

Too late, he was ready to come, and out he came, all glorious, slimy 8 lbs. 7 oz. and 21 inches of him.

You know, watching labor stories, I always feel like the mom is crying because it's such a beautiful moment, and she's so happy to meet this little person.

Yeahhhhh I was definitely crying because it HURT and I was EXHAUSTED!!!

:D But all in all, it was totally worth it.

Ladies and gentleman, I'd like you to meet Mr. Christopher James, my new heartthrob.