Little Voice

I saw my doctor the other day and she discussed medication for the postpartum depression. I felt relieved and disillusioned at the same time. The relief was because I now had an option, a choice. The disillusionment was because I swore I would never take medication while pregnant, and now I was posed with this dilemma...taking medication while breast feeding.

She also recommended a weekly therapy group for postpartum mothers, which I'm still thinking about. I do not do well in group therapy, as I am very self-conscious and tend to shrink away from speaking out loud. But the thought that it is there for me is a comfort nonetheless.

Either way, there's no definitive cure for what I have fallen upon. Although things have seemed to calm down somewhat since last week, I am still in constant discomfort/pain and working through a recovery that I couldn't have guessed would be this prolonged. It's only been two weeks, everyone says. I just want it to end so I can start feeling normal again. Perhaps then, I hope against hope, I will be a better mother to my baby.

The baby is sleeping in his bassinet next to the sofa while I watch television, trying to drown out the little voice inside me that keeps saying the things I'm afraid to say out loud. "You'll never be able to do this. You should give up now. Leave while you can. The baby and your husband will be better off without you there to burden them."

It's a horrible little voice, with a very loud message. I am simply not good enough to be a mother to this infant.

I ignore it as much as possible, and that's the best I can do for now. Ignore. I ignore the screaming when the baby is upset. I ignore the hatred I have for my own incompetence. I ignore the fact that I am exhausted for no apparent reason other than a debilitating depression. I ignore the fact that I resent my own child when he won't stop crying.

I remember being in my third trimester, pregnant belly out to *here* and feeling excited, joyful, amazed by the ability to create life within me. I was happy.

Now, two weeks and some days later, all I can imagine is being trapped with this responsibility for the rest of my life, knowing in my heart I will never be as good as this child deserves. It breaks me in two and shoves me aside like nothing.

So all I can do at this point is wait for the bonding that everyone says will happen soon enough. I wait for the hormones to pass through me, leaving me a clear path away from this sadness. I hope for a better future with this baby. I want to appreciate him, to love the days we have together while he is smaller than I ever imagined he would be when I was dreaming of him in my pregnant state.