Allow Me to Be a Little Too Honest

Our good friends have just adopted a brand-new baby boy.

Because they're new parents, they are naturally sooooo tired.

It's one of those situations where you don't know whether to laugh at them or cry with them.

Since you can't really do either of those things (because who wants to be the freak friend who cries), you just give them that knowing-parent-nod.

And when you get to do it, you feel like a member of an elite club.

All like, look at me!  I can totally nod along now and act like I know things that I actually don't know!

This has taken me back six months to when Carolyn was born.

I was a bloody mess.

At the time I didn't want to admit it, but I suffered from pretty severe postpardum depression. 

Maybe even bordering on postpardum psychosis.

I distinctly remember thinking, "If my baby died in her sleep, I wouldn't even be sad."

The worst part about it?

That thought didn't seem abnormal to me at the time.

I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I didn't want to talk to anyone, all I could do was cry.

I was anxiety riddled all the time, most especially when I made the decision to stop attempting to breastfeed.

I didn't feel anything "normal" new parents felt - no joy, no euphoria, no happiness.

But, as my hormones regulated, I started feeling like myself again, and I now can't get enough of her. 

In fact, the way I feel about her may border on pure, unadulterated adoration.

I feel so lucky to be a mother.

I feel so lucky to have my baby.

And yes, I'm now even grateful for the experiences I've had since she was born.

All of them.

Hopefully they have made me a better, more empathetic person.