There is a big blue sky waiting just behind the clouds

I have recently experienced a really bad patch in my recovery.

I was doing really well for a while; I was enjoying being with Little A, I’d planned a few things in the diary just for me and I even took Little A to a toddler Music Class (for those who have read my blogs from the beginning you will know what a big deal that was for me). I could finally see myself saying goodbye to my Black Balloon. I wasn’t even going to let Covid ruin it.

Then the temperature dropped and the weather changed and Little A picked up a bit of a sniffle which he was not at all happy about. I try to put myself in his position with stuff like this and remind myself just how grim a cold can make you feel. I try and remind myself that he doesn’t really have any idea what’s happening he just knows he doesn’t feel well and because he’s not able to converse yet he cannot tell me what’s wrong with him.

I was particularly tired and wasn’t sleeping great; nothing to do with Little A, thankfully he’s a really great sleeper. Everything becomes heightened when I’m tired and I have so much less patience and I know to be kind to myself in these situations. I know that the smallest thing can make me fly off the handle. It was the Friday of a very long week not just for me but for Mr N too; he has been unbelievably busy at work lately. I always look forward to Friday; it signals the end of the week and the start of the weekend when we have Mr N with us. I very rarely have bad Friday’s I’m usually in a really good mood but not this particular Friday.

Little A was miserable and despite being dosed up on Calpol nothing could appease him. He cried and moaned for 90 minutes straight; even the sanest of people would have struggled to remain calm and positive after that. I wondered if maybe he was hungry and as it was Friday he was treated to a small cheese and tomato pizza. He saw the food on the high chair tray and went about pushing it all off onto the floor moaning whilst he did it. I think I’d finally reached my limit and I broke. I screamed the house down and made Little A cry even harder. I got Little A out of the high chair popped him on the floor and I ran into the kitchen closing the door behind me. I sat on the floor and cried. It was the first time probably this year that the intrusive thoughts came back into my mind. I was angry at Little A for making me fall apart after all the good work I’d been doing and then I felt unbelievable guilt for shouting at him. What kind of Mother screams at her children?? When he was a baby and I used to shout I felt guilty but he was too young to know what was going on but he’s a lot older now. What if he remembers everything I’ve said and the times I raised my voice??

I hate Postnatal Depression. I hate it so much.

My meltdown took a lot out of me. In the heat of the moment, I just wanted to end it. I wanted to end the pain and anguish. When I was struggling with bad day after bad day I was exhausted but somehow you make it through. After having a spell of really good days; it felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach and had the wind knocked out of me. It is so hard to feel motivated again and confident in my recovery. It feels a bit like starting again in some ways.

I found the quote which I’ve used as the title for this blog online and I thought it summed things up perfectly. The skies may have turned grey again but there is a big blue sky just waiting to appear. I have to be positive. I’ve seen that beautiful blue sky before and I will see it again.