Hazel is growing so fast...it is hard to believe she is almost 7 months old already.
{5 months adjusted for being premature}
Life is full of her laughter, sweet smiles, soft spoken ramblings...
{and high pitched screams when she is testing out her voice}
She can hold her head up on her own now, enjoys books and grasping toys.
She is infatuated with the iPad {and TV, unfortunately, if she can find it within her sight}.
She loves her hands. and just recently discovered her feet.
She sleeps through the night now {for the most part}, but has started the dreaded stage of teething.
She takes regular naps and is up to play a lot more during the day. We have so much fun together.
After coming through pretty severe postpartum depression, things are looking better for me.
I get up and enjoy my days now. and her. Which is so different from how things were a few months back.
The world was a dark fog that I thought I would never get out of.
I wanted to hide. and run away. never to be found.
I dreaded my baby's cries. I dreaded her. I didn't talk to her or sing to her or laugh with her. I wept over her.
I survived with her. and spent the rest of the time sleeping, hiding in the dark, wishing I could have "my old life back."
I also lived with tremendous guilt because I heard so many times "you must be so grateful she is home"
and "enjoy every minute. it goes by so fast". and I hated hearing those words.
because I couldn't be grateful or joyful.
and some days I longed to just bring her back to the hospital and say,
"hey, who thought I was responsible enough and capable enough to care for this person?
because I am not! trust me!"
Thankfully, my ever faithful husband helped me to see through the fog and reach out for help.
It took awhile, because I was believing the lie that it was "just me". That I was, obviously, "not meant to be a mother".
I looked at her and wept daily. telling her that I knew she deserved better.
Telling my husband that I knew they would both be better off without me.
I really believed that during those dark days.
I finally reached out for help from my nurse mid-wife and began treatment.
I feel peace about my decisions because things are so much brighter these days.
Although, I will admit I still yearn to run away every now and then.
But, thankfully, now I know I can get through whatever is headed my way so I don't have to.
I am responsible. and capable. So capable.
I do so wish more moms would not be afraid to talk about how hard it is.
and that every day isn't peaches n' cream, and sunshine and rainbows and laughter.
some days just plain old suck.
{sorry for my crassness}
And if you are the kind of mom who never has those days...my hat is off to you.
but I am also done feeling guilty that I am not.
I have full confidence now that I am the best mom for my little girl and
that she will grow up blessed for having me.
and I am thankful to God for bringing her into my life and bringing life back into mine after she came.
Till next time...
{if any of you reading this are struggling with PPD...this website helped me a lot:
I highly encourage you to reach out for help. I have learned I am not weak for suffering with this illness,
but strong for surviving it and coming out the other side}
