Sunday, September 17, 2006

Eloise is a month old!

I didn't even realize that today was Eloise's one month birthday until Matt's mom reminded me. It's amazing how fast the time has gone! It feels like she has changed so much. In the blink of an eye she's not a newborn anymore. I wish I could think of something poignant to say, but honestly, I can't. Eloise has nestled herself right in to our lives and happily exists sleeping and nursing while the world around her goes on. I wish with all I am that my memories of the beginning of her time on earth wasn't so clouded by sadness.

Some of the mamas on MDC gently suggested I might have PPD. I suppose I might. It doesn't feel like I would be so down if external things in my life weren't so hard. If I had a stable relationship, a healthy post-partum recovery and a living dog, I think my mental state might be pretty much picture perfect. I don't know if PPD is the correct diagnosis for any post-partum depression, or only pregnancy/birth induced depression. Who knows. I will look in to it.

In good news, Matt has been amazingly supportive during this hard weekend. Without me even asking, he took off of work Friday so he could be here for me and accompanied me to Lily's euthanasia. He brought me breakfast and a bouquet of lilys on Saturday and we spent the whole weekend as a family. It was nice. I am starting to think maybe there is hope for us, after all. I know for sure I've been learning some heavy lessons lately and looking at things--ALL things-- very, very differently. Can't help but think that only good will come of that.

3 comments:

  1. Oh I do hope some good comes of it, yes! Things are looking up...

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  2. I hope so too! I'm rooting for you!

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  3. I don't think you have PPD. I think you're holding up really well despite overwhelming external stress.

    I've been holding out hope that you and Matt will be able to stay together as a family. Let me know if there's any way I can help out either way. But I like you both and would love to see it work out in a healthy way (as opposed to a my-parents-sort-of-way where you co-exist in angry angst)

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