I don't have a lot of humility left. Being in a hospital for 2 weeks on mostly bedrest takes that away. Having Jason help with the bedpan, having my parents and mother in law help me with the leg warmer contraption that massaged my legs to prevent blood clots, having nurses check on things while I'm in the shower, and everything else I went thru, I really don't care about stuff like I did before.
I've learned, the hardest way possible, what really matters in life. To not sweat the small stuff. Such a simple concept, someone should write a book about it or something.
It's not fair, maybe, this new attitude I have bc it feels judgmental to others. When people get upset over stupid things it makes me want to scream. When someone is petty or immature and looking for a fight it makes me want to shake them and ask, "have you ever had to learn what really matters in life?" I know the answer.
I'm depressed. Clinically. That's not fun to admit. I have postpartum depression. I can't even tell you how awesome it is to have something that should be running concurrent with holding my babies. It sucks.
My milk refuses to dry up. Nearly 2 months later this is ridiculous. Dr's keep saying it should have dried up after 2 weeks. Of course it's still leaking. Because that is how awesome things are right now. I don't have the babies to feed but my body won't accept that and I'm depressed added in hormones which makes it so much worse.
I'm not ok staying here. I'm fighting my way out. I went to a dr yesterday that I haven't been to in a very long time. It took me back to a very dark place. I cried from a place that is very deep. That's scary that grief runs so deep inside your whole being. Its not something that is easily healed. I'm an instant gratification kind of gal. This is tough.
It's silly in a duh kind of way but sometimes its hits me in the face that we lost 2 babies. 11 days apart. After We lost Tucker there was something to hold onto. We still had Fletcher. Now I'm just empty. The Dr told me that this is a season and it sucks and I'm in the middle of the storm but seasons change and this will too, eventually. There was some comfort in that.
My out of shape self has decided it's time to do something. I give up easily now. I make a ton of excuses. My confidence has disappeared. Last night I wanted to not go running but I made a promise to Jason. It's a good feeling when you love someone so much you can't break a promise to them. Even though that promise nearly made me puke.
In an effort to make packing easier (I hate packing) for the move next month (I hate moving) I've started purging, decluttering and organizing. It feels good to get some order back on our lives but holy crap we have a lot of crap. If I haven't seen the sweater in 2 years its out. If the 15 socks on the dryer haven't found their mates by now they are in the trash.
There is therapy in purging the bad, the useless and the forgotten.
(I think that might have just been a life lesson)
I've shared a lot on this blog. Our infertility struggles, the loss of Tucker and Fletcher and now saying, out loud, I have postpartum depression. It sucks. I'm carrying shame, like I can control any of this. The shame comes from feeling like I'm letting other people down. Like I should be further along than I am. I know that's in my head. But I'm further along than I was yesterday so I will count that as success.
I'm blessed bc I have a husband who ran behind me telling me not to quit, to keep going, that I could do it. And I found out I can. And I will. I have a reason to get healthy and I am ready to face it.
Hot pink running shoes are the first step. And I took it.