All You Need is Love?

Wouldn’t it be great if all we needed was love? 

The trouble is, it really isn’t enough is it?  It will help you through the rough patches for sure but at the end of the day, there are a lot of times when love falls a bit short of the mark.  People still get sick.  People still die.  People still hurt.  And perhaps the worst of all - People still need money.

I am a mom.  I have a beautiful little girl.  I have a wonderful husband.  Our household is filled with love and laughter.  This is not enough.  I have postnatal depression and our love, as strong as it is, cannot squash it.

One Runner's Tale

Long long ago, in a land far far away, there was a girl who loved to run…

Exercise has been a stress reliever for me since my college days (Uni, UK readers).  It was the perfect release from the pressures of all-nighters and impending crits.  Through the years, running has become my constant.

I head out, relax my muscles as much as possible, kick into a comfortable rhythm, and let my mind go wherever it wants.  Sometimes it churns over the same thing for the whole run, quite often working itself to some sort of conclusion by the end.  Sometimes it hops from one thing to another, and before I know it, it’s gone blank and I’ve not thought of anything but the scenery for ages.  I used to call it zen running because of how these runs make me feel come the end. 

Taking Out the Garbage

Today’s post is more journal entry than usual. I apologize in advance but I had to get it out somehow…what better place than a completely public blog

I sat down last night to write about one of the more emotional subjects for me but after an hour of rambling and almost 1000 words, I realized I’d done nothing but skirt the issue.  Clearly I am not ready to deal with it.  I should be able to accept this and move on but I can’t.  To say I have been low the last couple of days would be an understatement.  Truth is, I am a mess.  I had these ideas that I would start writing about my journey, move past a few issues I hadn’t really faced, and I’d somehow be in recovery.  Now, only a few posts in, I’m scared that exploring these issues is opening up this chasm that will swallow me up and never let me out.  I am beginning to wonder if I might be better off sealing it shut again. 

Silent Sunday

I've Got a Little Daddy's Girl...and I thank my lucky stars

One of the drawbacks to running on auto-pilot is sometimes I forget to let the nice emotions out too.  So, since this is what I created this blog for, today’s post lets you in on the sappy side.

I can almost see my husband rolling his eyes now as he reads this – being gushed about or thanked on any sort of social network is certainly not high on his list

There has been one big bright shining spark throughout the last year and that has been my husband.  He has loved our little girl with his whole being, from the moment he met her. If you watch them together or listen to him talk about her, you can almost see the love resonating through him. I don’t know how to explain it because I don’t know how it is for the rest of you but loving my little girl did not came naturally. I loved her with my mind first (of course I loved her, she was my daughter) but loving her with my heart came later. I can tell just by watching Andrew that it is not the same for him. He definitely loves her with his heart and I’m pretty sure he does not need logic to know he wants to laugh and play with her as he does. 

She lights up when he walks in the room. “Daddy?” is often the first thing she asks about in the morning, pitter-pattering into the bedroom to make sure he’s up too. Their love is palpable and it has warmed my heart even on my darkest days to see the two of them together. She is a Daddy’s girl to the highest degree and it has been my saving grace.

Sleep Thief

When I was pregnant, the thing I heard most was “get as much rest as you can now because you won't get much of it when the baby arrives.”  I smiled, sure I knew where that glint in their eye came from, why it seemed to always be accompanied with a slightly cheeky grin.  I was prepared.  I’d done my share of all nighters and I’d learned the art of the catnap to get you through a long stint of never-ending days. 

My little lady made a name for herself our first night in the hospital, either eating or crying the whole night through. A midwife took her for a while so I could get some rest. She came back less than two hours later, looking extremely frazzled and remarking at the set of lungs my girl has on her.  I had no delusions that this would change anytime soon so was ready to tough it out until she learned the difference between night and day.

As it turned out, she slept her first seven hour stint a couple of days before our six week check-up. Brilliant, I thought. After a couple of nights like this, I’ll be able to think normally and sanity will return. That’s when I learned one of those many little secrets parents keep from parents to be (or maybe we just don’t listen?) - Just because she was sleeping, doesn’t mean I would.

I Can't Believe I'm Not Better

I am sitting in my doctor’s office with my daughter on my lap. We’ve both got temperatures and are feeling pretty rotten. My husband is there too, nice enough to drive us. The doctor turns to me with that meaningful look I’ve seen so many times. “How are you doing?”

“No, I’m not here about that.” I quickly change the subject and explain little miss and my symptoms. We’ve been right to visit. It’s a round of antibiotics for both of us.

But the doctor isn’t finished. “So, how are you doing?”

I’m caught off guard.  This isn’t something I want to talk about today.  “Things are fine. Yeah. Well, things are tough but that’s to be expected. Right?  I mean, she’s little, and there’s the job stuff and being so far from home like I’ve explained before.  Soooo I’m…fine….all things considered. I’m doing okay.”  My eyes betray me. I can feel them glistening with fresh tears.

My doctor turns to my husband, and asks him how I’m doing. His apologetic look says it all.  “From the outside, she’s doing fine but she’s really good at masking.” He pauses. “Since she keeps it all in all day, I see her at her worst.” Another long pause and a look at the doctor. She answers for him.  “Not well then.”