Post-Adoption Depression
Though I didn't give birth, I'm certain now that there exists a post-adoption depression. I'm not sure it is a parallel to post-partum depression, but it's there and I recognize it. I feel it in my inability to sleep (hence, I'm at the computer at midnight while hubby and Cookie sleep soundly). I feel it in my lethargy, my desire to eat everything in sight, my irritability, my complexion, and my scattered thoughts.The build-up to this point has been monumental to say the least. Getting here took more work than any college degree I've earned (and I've earned 3). But in spite of it all, I'm still the same person - but with the overwhelming sense that I should somehow be...better. I wish I were more savvy, more in touch with the world, more energetic, and happier. I also wish I had the sense of contentment I thought I would feel.
Even thought I knew that having (getting, rather) a child would not complete my world and make everything sunny, I don't think I could have fully escaped the trappings of the messages that say otherwise. And the process in and of itself lures you into feeling that way - like if you run the race and are ragged and beat up that in the end you''ll emerge with this perfect family and you will smile that Crest smile and look like a family in a magazine.
I don't look anything like a magazine ad. In fact, I just returned my hair to it's quasi-original color after making it more-or-less the color of a nectarine.
I am exhausted, and yet I cannot sleep.
Cookie...God bless her...STILL does not sleep through the night at 15 months. She wakes up around 2 am with a very wet diaper and wants a drink. I could deny her the drink after the diaper change, but that won't change the fact that she still has a wet diaper that ticks her off. To top it off, the love of co-sleeping is beginning to fade. She's no longer the sweet baby that doesn't move sleeping in her nest at the head of the bed. She's a big toddler who thrashes about in her sleep and likes to kick you in the ribs or wake up and throw her entire chubby body over your head and shoulders while she whimpers in her sleep. It's going to have to change, but it seems there is always something preventing it from being a "good time" - like cutting yet another dozen teeth (it seems), or another ear infection. At the moment, we have both, which lead to her standing up in the tub during her entire bath and crying very loudly while big fat tears streamed down her cheeks and snot streamed down past her lips. Eeww.
OK, this might get to the "real" reason I'm depressed, so I'll just get it out there since I'm already up and typing away:
It's 5 days (or 6 depending on what you count - long story) away from my (our) 3rd wedding anniversary. And yes, it's March F-in Madness. And yes, I am as bitter about it as I have been for the last 3 years. Yes, I spent most of my wedding nights watching basketball. Yes, it will be the same this year. I hate March. I hate it only slightly more than opening week of baseball, which is then closely followed by the insanely long baseball playoffs to get to the World Series.
Yes, I am a sports widow. In every sense of the word.
And we never had a honeymoon, and we've never taken a vacation that did not involve saying with family or a business conference. And it pisses me off. And March makes me think about it...again.
I'll get through this month, and Cookie will get over her latest ear infection and yeast rash caused by the antibiotics...and life will go on.
And I feel guilty even writing such trivial, selfish things. I mean, Lisa's down near K-town still grieving, and many of my IF blogger buddies would give everything to have a perfect little daughter like I have - even if it meant taking the crap-ola of sports. I know I'm lucky, and blessed, and that I should be sleeping soundly. But I still wish "things" were better.
Maybe next March I'll just have to go to come visit some of ya'll instead of sittin' here waiting for the madness to end.
*sigh*
I'm not spell-checking. I'm too tired. I'm gonna go see if the Tylenol PM has worked yet. I think I have restless leg syndrome. Of course, every commercial I see makes me think in some way "hey - I think I have that". Maybe I really DO have an enlarged prostate...
:)
posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 3/14/2007 12:05:00 AM
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