But I am still crazy.
A friend of mine gave a hearty chuckle the other day when I blamed my recent stomach problems on hormones. I looked at her pretty deadpan and let her know I was not joking at all. I mean, I think I have a sensitive stomach that is more easily set off by changes in my body, but all the same, it's NOT a food allergy, I blame the hormones.
For the first few months after Lucy's birth I kept on wondering when my hair would commence falling out all over the place. At around 3 months postpartum I walked into the bathroom and saw a giant wad of hair, which I initially assumed was the product of some new hobby that Mike had picked up that incorporates skinning neighborhood wildlife. Nope, just my hair, falling out all over the place. I blame the hormones.
For the first 3 postpartum months I wanted Lucy to be next to me every waking and sleeping moment, and I could sleep soundly right there with her. Then, like a light being switched off, I needed my space- I couldn't sleep near her and vice versa. I can still handle the fact that she is terrible at day time sleep, mostly because she is being a veritable peach at night, but I am sure I'll hit a point where I start to feel utterly smothered and will insist on getting her on a nap schedule, one way or another. And I blame the hormones.
|it does help that she is so cute, a little|
Yesterday I was a productivity tornado. I could not be stopped. Who needs food or drink when I can scrub the bathroom baseboards and steam clean the floors? Today I am pretty much a blob deplete of any motivation to do anything but sit and eat delicious cookies made by the sweetest friend. And blog about my lack of motivation. I blame the damn hormones.
I am pretty sure that yesterday I slumped on the couch with a crying baby in my arms and two needy toddlers staring me in the face and thought, "for sure, I cannot have any more babies for a really, really long time". Then this morning I saw a few spare pregnancy tests sitting on the counter and thought "Oh, how fun! I should take one, maybe I'm pregnant! That would be so awesome!". Either Mike's been planting some subliminal messages in my overly vulnerable brain, or it's the hormones.
There is not a time in my life where I long for a pack of cigarettes more, nor a time where I have obsessed more over whether I will die an untimely, early death and leave all three girls and Mike alone- yes this has gone through my head an utterly embarrassing amount of times. My fuse with the girls and with Mike is shorter than my nasty short nails, which will not grow, probably due to the hormones.
Oh and the guilt.
Over the years, I have become more and more acquainted with the guilt that accompanies mothering, but it is never as bad as it is in postpartum days. Other than after miscarrying, there has not been a time where I need anywhere from 30 to 300 minutes per day of television for the children in order to keep them happy and keep me sane. However, there has never been a time where I am more convinced that their little brains are going to melt and come dribbling out of their noses right in the middle of their favorite scene. I feel like I might as well go ahead and put their names in at the nearest juvenile facility, since that is surely where they will be by the time they reach the age of reason.
|yep, they're crazy. and brain damaged.|
And articles like this one, which I would usually be able to dismiss out of hand end up haunting me during Lucy's nightly CIO stint to get to sleep. I mean, I could be causing PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE!!!
I think we get the point, Ana. You blame the hormones.
You're darn right, I do. And I always will.