I've got the punch-yourself-in-the-face baby blues

Now that I'm two weeks postpartum (and the reality of life with two children has set in), people are starting to treat me a bit like a delicate flower. Kind of like one with a really broken, thin, tiny stem and wilted petals, ready to fall off at any moment.

And when I say "people" I mean basically any human being I come into contact with.

Which, in their defense, is kind of right on par.

It could be because I called my mom crying the other day.

Or maybe it's because I was teary-eyed while at Braeburn's doctor for the second time this week, explaining that we can rarely get him to stop wailing, that it feels like we're going through the stomach issues with his sister all over again.

Maybe it's because he wouldn't stop screaming and I was asked by three different nurses and a couple in the elevator how I dealt with said screaming.

Perhaps it's because I sent a text to one of my closest friends telling her that I should stop having babies because mine seem to come out in pain, screaming all the time and so I should just birth toddlers. Whining to her because despite being older, wiser and already a parent of one, I still couldn't prepare myself for another child with stomach issues, another child that is largely inconsolable, another child that I feel completely helpless to.

It could be because I called my best friend in the entire world (the one without any children) and left a message bawling my eyes out about how hard this was and how terrible of a mother I was.

Or the fact when my other friend texted me asking if I was surviving life with two I didn't even read the text message for 20 hours, probably because I was crying.

Not to mention the time my Braeburn burped up breastmilk all over our bedroom comforter and my husband replied with "well, that's why we got this bedspread anyway, it hides everything." Yup, I cried then too. Mainly because I was covered in burp juice, my hair was a wreck and I just wanted one thing in our house to not smell like yucky baby fluid.

I'm not in a full-blown depression, I have lots of moments of happiness still. I'm just feeling really, really stuck. I'm feeling like we're starting all over again and I feel guilty because if I let my mind really wander, I start to contemplate how another child was ever a good idea in the first place. Not because Braeburn isn't amazing (he's such a handsome, darling little man), but because I don't know if I'm strong enough, if I'm good enough.

I know that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I know that his digestive system will mature and he will get through this bout of gas, tummy cramps or whatever else is making him a big ole cranky pants.

I suppose the hardest part is simply not knowing how much longer we have until we reach the end of the tunnel, until we're in the sunshine and until we're a happy family of four again.

But when it comes to the punch-yourself-in-the-face baby blues, (complete with babies, immature digestive systems, breastmilk and farts) the thing you have to remember is that there will be an end. He will get older, we will get used to this and until then, we just have to grin and bear it; and keep our eyes on the light at all times, whether it's three weeks away or three months away.


  1. I'm sorry to hear you're having a hard time. Someone once said to me that when you have children you experience the best and the worst of times, but I guess the bad times are mainly bad because you love your kids so much, sometimes it helps me to remember that. I hope things get better soon x

  2. You have a good support network of family and friends and a great partner to help you through this. Plus you have a blog where perfect internet strangers, like me, can send you sympathetic, digestion enhancing, perservering, I-hope-the-light-comes-soon vibes.

  3. My now six month old son could not digest my breast milk, and on top of that I was barely producing any. I felt so terrible and inadequate. I struggled for a month trying to make it work, listening to him wail and watching him writhe and constantly arch his back. I had terrible postpartum depression and just wondered if I was equipped to be a mom at all.

    When we finally switched him to soy formula, he started doing better within a few days, but it took awhile for him to gain weight. Everyone started giving us unsolicited advice on how "imposing our vegan agenda" on our son wasn't right and we should consider his needs over our beliefs.

    Now he is a GIANT baby, he is strong and tall and happy as can be. You are right, you will all adjust and things will get better and you will all be a happy family.
    But I know how hard it can be to feel like something that should be natural and easy, just isn't.
    I wish someone would have told me how hard having babies is!

    Anyhow, I have been stalking your blog for awhile now, this is my first comment because this post just struck a chord with me.
    I know you don't know me, but just know there is someone out there who understands and is sending you secret and silent support. <3

  4. All of you are absolutely right. We went through this with our daughter just two and a half years ago and have already forgotten the sleepless, cry-filled nights, so I know that these too will pass. I think it's just disheartening because it can feel like you're a failure for not being able to breastfeed your children. Especially with many in society asking "well, did you do this, or try this or do that?" It's easy to feel like I haven't tried hard enough.

    Ultimately though, it's about what works best for Braeburn and what makes him feel better.

    Thank you all SO much for the kind words and support, even if it's via internet ;)