How Much Do You Care - About Yourself?

One of my neighbors commented on how time has flown by because my boy is already two. She said, “Gosh, it seems like yesterday that you were pregnant!” I said, “I know!” and smiled. Then, I looked down and realized that I was wearing the same “lounge” pants and hooded sweatshirt that I wore around the neighborhood when I was pregnant.

Now I don’t believe that she thought the same thing about my clothes (but if she did, I’ll beat her up), but regardless, I felt sheepish.

I have been known to schlop around the neighborhood in slippers, no bra, and sunglasses. This is not something I would have ever done before Parker. I thought it very important to wear make-up to the grocery store. Now I am outside at 10:00 am on a Sunday, pulling a wagon or supervising an obsession with the community mailboxes, looking like a loitering homeless person.

My care for what others thought around the neighborhood must have ended about 5 days after my son was born. I will never forget the details of that day.

I was dozing with Parker during a morning nap. We woke and he looked so darn cute. Look at him. Like a monkey.

I tell you now, after the flash of the camera in that very picture, Parker started crying. And screaming. And arching in pain. He wasn’t diagnosed yet, but he had The Reflux. He wouldn’t feed, and if he did, he would scream and arch in pain and choke on spit-up. My husband and I were recording his patterns of crying at the time because we weren’t sure yet what was wrong with him. I still have the journal of that day. He started crying about 11:00 am, and he DID NOT STOP until 5:00 pm.

I don’t remember where my husband was, but he came home, and I just walked. Out. Of. The. House. And. Down. The. Street. I had nowhere to go at a certain point but turn around and go back. On my way back, a different neighbor was outside and saw me. I had tears streaming down my face. I probably looked like a crazy person. Her face went all sympathetic and she said, “Oh no, are we experiencing some post partum?”

I remember standing there, shocked. I didn’t know what to say. Looking back I realize I went through some post-partum depression but I hadn’t yet dealt with that at the time. Who else wouldn’t feel absolutely depressed and insane after spending 6 hours with your own infant that you had no way of soothing, not even through breastfeeding? As if the situation couldn’t get any more awkward, she came up and hugged me. I think I sputtered out, “He’s been crying for a really long time. Something’s wrong. I have to go.”

Well, what can I say? I wear my heart on my sleeve and anyone around me probably knows how I’m feeling. When it comes down to it, I don’t care what the neighbors think. But I care what I think. And I’m tired of feeling schloppy. The incessant, horrible crying is over. The Reflux is over. It is time to pay a little more attention to myself. I’m still not going to care what I look like at the grocery store (it’s been freeing), and I might schlop around the neighborhood here and there (keep ‘em guessing), but I just need to care about myself a little more. It’s hard, but I’m going to try. Why is that so hard?