Whoa. They ain't joking when they talk about postpartum blues due to a serious hormonal roller coaster-esque drop. The medical staff talked about the 'first ten days' being susceptible to 'the blues'. Yah. It's now 12 days out and it really was yesterday that I started feeling the fog lift. Night feedings, with exhaustion and alone time added in, were harrowing. A couple of times I sat feeding Liam with tears streaming down my face. And no, they were not tears of joy. Tears shed for the life I've left behind, the dream job I'll never have again, the freedom I had, etc. The rest of the family talked about being over the moon, full of happiness and sheer amazement at the birth of our son. And I silently sat there wondering, "what the hell were we thinking?!?!"
I think the worst part of it was that surrounded by this joy and excitement, it is practically forbidden to speak up and say that I was not happy, I was not over the moon, and, umm... would someone like to take him off my hands, please (permanently)?
Fortunately for me, my entire family came in to town this past week for my grandfather's funeral (thank you, grandpa, for your thoughtful consideration), so we had a houseful of eager aunts and uncles wanting nothing better than to do exactly that - take Liam off my hands; not to mention affording me a reason to get out of the house. Furthermore, what with them being my siblings, there was enough noise and activity in my parents' relatively small home for me to silently fade into the background while I struggled to figure out what I was going to do.
Well, as I said, fortunately for me the fog has lifted; I can see his adorable cuteness, serene innocence and something other than a future in which he terrorizes me and everyone else's path he crosses.
To end on a happy note, here we are, with a very obviously ecstatic Auntie Rae:
Check out Nathan's blog for more photos of the happy relatives with Liam.
