“How’s your day going?”
“I’m…I’m really struggling today. It’s okay. I’m just overwhelmed.”
“I’m coming home.”
“No. It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” I say between tears.
“No. I’m coming home. Your mental state matters. I’ll be home soon.”
Yesterday. Yesterday was one of those days. This week. It was one of those weeks. Anxiety for me isn’t a postpartum thing. Depression for me isn’t a postpartum thing. These were things I’ve danced with my entire life. I’ve felt reluctant to write about them because I didn’t want to make them a postpartum thing. For me, it’s a human thing.
Feelings of overwhelm. Anxiety. Panic attacks. Feeling low. Really, really low. But I’ve worked really hard over the years to build a toolkit that supports these days.
Yesterday the support I needed didn’t come from me though. It came from a wonderful, loving partner who was willing to stop work, come home early, and get us all out of the house for a winter walk while the sunshine was still out. It shifted us all. The crisp air in our lungs, the sound of the river, horses, cattle, ducks, geese — rosy cheeks from sun and snow. It felt like pushing a big reset button.
This week was one of those weeks where Saga needed me more. Which meant my morning routine barely gave me enough time alone to pee, make coffee, clean up the kitchen, make the bed, and by the time I came upstairs to workout, she was ready and wanting to be held. Having to choose between brushing your teeth and starting the laundry. Brushing your hair and putting some makeup on or getting a workout in. Making the bed or changing out of your pajamas. Most days I make it work. Most weeks, she wants to be with her dad for at least an hour in the morning. But this week, I felt so far away from myself. 30 to 45 minutes of alone time in a 24 hour period day after day just wasn’t enough for me.
This is why they say it takes a village. This is why people move home, move closer to family to start a family. This is why motherhood groups exist. Sometimes it feels really lonely that I don’t have access to that here. No other moms to meet up with for coffee and a walk. No family members to come over, or for us to drop Saga off with while I go grab groceries. There are parts of big cities, or at least big familiar cities, that Daniel and I miss. But never enough to move back to them.
I haven’t mentioned this before publicly but Daniel and I are most likely a “one and done” family. Meaning, Saga is most likely going to be our only child. Although my heart would love a sibling for her in a few years, I don’t think I have the mental capacity for it. And in all honesty, I think if we had access to daycare, or family, or a nanny, it would be a different story. But I suppose that’s a story for another day. And really, who knows, in 2 years we might be open to doing this all over again with access to different resources.
As I rush to finish the last of my lukewarm coffee, I hear Saga crying for me downstairs. Ready to eat. My leaky boobs let me know. And I still haven’t worked out. Or brushed my teeth. Or eaten. Or had water? Have I had any water in the past 12 hours?
It’s been one of those weeks. And if you’re having one of them too, I’m reaching my hand out virtually to hold yours too. xx
With Love,
Caitlin
Oh mama, I feel you, I feel you, I feel you. Sooo hard & exhausting to do it yourself without access to other mamas, friends, and grandparents. Can’t blame you, I definitely don’t want to move to AZ to be with grandma. Blah. It’s a lot. Glad you got out for a walk. Men who listen & support are friggen gold. Sending love & wishing I could watch lil Saga for you!