It’s nearing the three week mark since Layla’s birth, and exhaustion has set in. The dark circles under my eyes are getting harder to conceal with make up. My head is blurry. I can’t complete a thought much less decide on what to make for dinner. Laundry is piling up around me.
And I can’t stop crying.
I feel bad even writing about this because I love my baby and my kids more than anything in this world. I just seem to be having a hard time in finding the happiness in that love. I cry when I hold Layla because, my gosh, she’s already growing so fast. I cry when Eva talks about Kindergarten because she was my baby for so long. I don’t want her to leave me. All of the kids are growing up so fast and instead of enjoying each of these short lived phases, I’m a blubbery mess.
I’m crying right not just writing about how fast they are growing up.
The big kids are getting increasingly frustrated with me because I just can’t muster up the energy or will power to finish off the summer with all the activities we love. Day trips to the lake, parties at the park, and a day at the amusement park, zoo, and farm all sound like fun. But when it comes down to actually going and doing, I lose interest. We’ve gone to the pool once since Layla’s birth, and it rained within 10 minutes of getting there. I know I need to get them out to do something, but I just don’t want to.
Layla really is a good baby. She doesn’t fuss much. She eats well. And she kind of just goes with the flow.
Yet, I can’t seem to pull it all together.
Maybe I’m being a little hard on myself.
It has only been 3 weeks.
I don’t know much about postpartum depression. A friend of mine asked if I suffered from it before. I haven’t. She seems to think that I am now. I’m not sure.
I know I’m tired but can’t sleep. I want to be happy but feel sad. I want to laugh but can’t stop crying.