Two weeks after Baby Girl was born, I was put on a bigger dose of my anti-depressants. I've been struggling with depression for years (since 8th grade). I saw the signs in myself that things were deteriorating, and I took steps to correct it as soon as I could. The medicine has helped, but so has reaching out to friends and family. Depression should not be dealt with quietly. In order to brighten up the dark spots in my life, I need to open them up to people. Family and friends have become a light to me the past six weeks, helping me see that the dark spots aren't hugely scary. At the very least, they aren't hugely scary when you have someone there holding your hand.
Several of my friends have dealt with PPD, and it's been a great help to me to talk to them. They understand how I feel, and can talk me down from the verge of a panic attack. They've helped me realize that Baby Girl is going to grow and thrive, and that just because I get frustrated when she cries doesn't mean I'm a bad parent.
I've also started getting out the house with Baby Girl. We go visit family and friends, go shopping, or just go for a walk. And when I need a Baby Girl free moment, The Husband takes her and I escape to Target.
And in spite of all of the crap that is my depression, Baby Girl is happy. She smiles more and more each day. The smiles help. She is getting bigger and no longer fits in most of her newborn clothes. She adores tummy time. She is growing up so fast, and I don't want to miss a single moment.
