So we march on. Claire is 5 and in Kindergarten. Lily is 4 and in pre-school. Thomas is 11 weeks and he loves him the foody very much thank you. Tanktankrthomas. And now it seems we are back on the precipice, trying to decide what course of action is best for our little family. The PPD has been lurking, not good lurking. Not HEY, I've been your reader for a while now and I love you so much how's about if I set up a fund for your three kids and take care of college for you? (You: clearly PPD is not your only disorder at the moment. Me: So true) But angry lurker. Lurker who throws spit wads and creates tension and truly truly wants me to feel ugly about myself, my life, my journey through motherhood and wiveliness (word?).
I feel myself slipping and the only consolation I have is that I came back from it all last time. I came back. It was ugly and less than graceful. It was scary and turbulent. At times the outlook was well, not so good. But here I am. On the other side, a survivor. I managed. I grew. Got REALLY optimistic/delusional, and threw my hat in the ring one more time. With the knowledge that there are many options available, less than ideal though they may be, they are options nonetheless, and I CAN do this. Have I mentioned I'm on Ambien right now, because I really think that ought to be noted. The screen and my surroundings are a bit floaty and not entirely real...so we'll let that be our theme for todays syntax. Druggy otherworldy. Oh. My English teachers would be so proud.
So today is Wednesday. Wednesdays for me, are hell. Pure unadulterated hell. Get the kids to school (seperate schools, seperate times) with a newborn who wants to eat every 14.2 minutes lest armageddon unfold. Pick up Claire from bus stop (and oh yes, I was manually pumping while waiting for her in the van. Howdy doody bus driver!! Why yes my nipples do appear to be in some kind of medieval torture device. Want one? No? Well see you tomorrow!! Milk is dripping down my shirt. My boobs are shamed.
Drive to pick up Lily from Preschool/swim class. Thomas blows out diaper in car seat on the way. Throw Lily in locker room shower, Pull Thomas from poo-soaked infant carrier. Lovely. It's at this point of the day where I switch into what I fondly refer to as, "I am dead inside and have no feelings" mode. I've found it works brilliantly for days like this. Wednesdays are generally a day of anxiety, emotional melt-downs, and mild hysterics round these parts. Okay, in my brain. And this seems to help. Operation Zombie Robot. I do not allow myself feelings on Wednesdays. I can cry about it on Thursday. Feel overwhelmed about it on Friday. Wednesday? Well, we're in crisis mode and we simply must push through.
So! Repeating my dead inside mantra to myself repeatedly, I change the diaper, dry off the milk leak stains from the tatas under the hand dryer. Don't judge. I pumped in the car. While driving. Because I've got everything under control...
Target doesn't have our prescriptions? No problem! I have no feelings! Lily pooped her pants? Wonderful! Zombies love defecation! We change for dance class (at this point I have changed their clothes five times. And have i mentioned my dislocated rib? Lots a vicaden. Can't worry about that and breastfeeding though, because today IS NOT THE DAY FOR THAT!
At this point we only have two hours before Joseph gets home (Blessed be all that is good and holy) and two hours before I start teaching and have orchestra rehearsal. Until 10pm. 30 minutes away.
I've had three hours of sleep for three nights now, and today we started our morning at 430. My favorite time of the day!
So, no matter how craptastically fabulous it would feel to melt into a puddle of goo and cry until 2015, today is the day of no feelings. No goo puddle for you.
You may start to question your sanity and/or the decision making process that lead you to this point in your life. But no. You are dead inside. And those effers just keep on keepin on.
We zombies try to be pleasant. Smile when appropriate and sometimes laugh (we don't really mean it. It is Wednesday after all.) But mostly we stick our elbows out, put our heads down and plow through. Emotions in check. Until tomorrow. When all hell breaks loose.
I never said it was a perfect system.