I've Got Nothin
Thank God for Adam.
I'm not just saying that. I am sending up prayers of thanks constantly this morning.
We were in the car all day yesterday. There were so many errands to run and all of them seemed to involve a drive of 20-30 minutes. So the baby would get these mini naps and then I'd have to haul him out and into the drugstore, my doctor's office, his grandpa's house, the consignment store, home, BACK to the consignment store and back home. We were both exhausted by the end of the day. Was that part of it?
I realized in all of the hauling and carrying just how heavy 20lbs of baby actually is and exactly how out of shape I am. I know that can't help.
A friend of our family lost her mother and the wake was last night. I was too exhausted to go. So there was guilt.
My best friend sent our Christmas presents yesterday and I realized that I won't be able to get presents until it's way too late to send them - unless I ask Adam for money. So there's wounded pride.
I was off of my meds for a week. It wasn't by choice, but a combination of travel, bad luck and poor planning. That was DEFINITELY a factor.
Oh yeah, and we're closing in on a year of me not sleeping well. which all the doctors will tell you is super healthy. So there's that too.
When Adam brought the monitor in to bed around 3am I was tired in a way that I cannot describe to anyone who has not suffered from depression. It isn't a physical tiredness, but a state of soul weariness that seeps into your bones.
The baby was awake. I gathered the bottle and the gas meds and went into the nursery. I picked him up and tried to revel in the warm baby middle of the night smell. I breathed to center myself and tried to focus on how gorgeous this tiny person is.
He didn't want to be swaddled. He's fast, but I'm faster and I knew that if I didn't swaddle him he'd whack himself in the face in his sleep and wake up screaming. So I swaddled. I gave him the meds. I rubbed his tummy. I fed and rocked and put him down snoring.
He flipped over.
He was still asleep though so I turned his head sideways so he could breathe and I unsnapped the swaddle from around his arms and tried to pull them out without waking him - and he started rubbing his eyes.
I lost it. I just stood there, next to the crib screaming at the top of my lungs in my head, " WHY would you do that?! You're asleep. Go the HELL back to sleep! You rub your eyes when you're tired. This isn't tired this is ASLEEP! HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME???" It took a while for me to realize that I wasn't screaming but whispering so hard that I was making myself hoarse. I was also crying, leaning over the crib staring at him, but not really seeing him.
My son, however, saw me. His eyes were wide and confused and scared. He's nearly six months old now and I can no longer tell myself that he doesn't know what's going on. He may not remember this, though the good Lord knows that I always will, but he does KNOW. I don't think I will ever forgive myself for that.
I went into the bedroom sobbing and tried to explain to Adam what was happening, but I couldn't get much more out other than, "I can't" over and over. He got right up, told me it was ok and started trying to comfort me until I waved him away towards the baby.
An hour later he was back. He held me while I sobbed it out and fell asleep on his chest. The next thing I remember is a noise coming from the monitor. It's a video monitor so I could see that he was moving. I grabbed the monitor and headed for the nursery thinking to get him before the full on screaming woke Adam up. Somewhere in the living room I froze. Every noise that he made was like nails on a chalkboard to me. The fine hairs were standing up on the back of my neck. There was NO WAY that I should be going into that room.
He was annoyed and fussy, but not in any pain or danger so I sat in the living room with the monitor turned all the way down trying to get a hold of myself and stop thinking that I hated the sound of my son's voice.
Adam came out to find me tear streaked and only slightly coherent yet again. He made sure I was ok and then he went and rocked the baby and fed him a little more and got him settled. He was awake - there was nothing we could do. He told me to go lay down. He called me dear, which always gets me.
I took a double dose of my Zoloft* and cried myself to sleep. After a pretty sleepless night himself Adam spent the wee hours of the morning looking after me and the baby.
In the morning he asked if there was anything he could do for me. I said I needed Kellythebestbabysitterever for the full day instead of a half. His response? Whatever you need. Then I had to admit it, "I'm worried about being alone with him". His response? To put his arms around me and tell me he loves me.
Kelly is here now. He's a little out of sorts and extra fussy, but she has the sitter magic and can cajole and tease and tickle until he smiles and giggles again. I can hear them through the door to the office and the guilt sticks like molasses in my throat. She can only stay until two, so Adam is coming home to watch over us
I'm getting work done. I can fake it over the phone - although it is exhausting. I keep reminding myself to breathe and re-center. I lost half of this blog to a computer glitch, but I just drank some coffee and started again because this man, kiddos... THIS MAN.
I have a great family and truly amazing friends. I have a wonderful doctor and we have a plan to make sure that I don't run out of meds again. I have a babysitter that I like and trust and who adores my child. I have medication to help me and I have all of you to listen and talk to. But I could not make it without that man. .
There are no words to describe how much I love him or all the ways in which I need him. No words for how I want him or how I respect him. No words for how he brightens my life or the kind of father he is. I've got nothin'.
* Yes, I know that I get no immediate benefit from taking the double dose of my Zoloft since it has to build up in my system all over again. I took it anyway.