Broken pieces

I always thought that I would never be one of those new moms who suffer from postpartum depression.

Let me be clear: I am not depressed neither have I been diagnosed with postpartum depression.

I am simply speaking from my heart. I feel that I can understand better now what these moms are going through. I get it now.

I must admit that I have not totally been myself since the birth of my little prince. I act and react irrationally sometimes. It is getting better. I have started working out a week ago. I can enjoy drinking wine, eating oysters and sushi again. Yay. 

But some nights, it creeps up on me. I can not sleep because I am overwhelmed by waves of anxiety. I think the worst...What if I lose my children? What if my husband dies? What if I get cancer? What's wrong with me? 

Some days, I cry the lost of hugs and kisses from my first child. I cry the loss of her spot in my arms. I cry for her lost of my time with her. I am constantly anxious that my newborn (born 26 days before its due date) will stop breathing or that he will choke with my milk at night. I cry for the time flying by way too fast. I cry for all the pounds I need to loose.

I weep for my stomach which seems to have been put in the blender on High Pulse and for my thighs that are now covered with cellulite because of too much water retention during my pregnancy...

I am crying for the lost of myself.

I thought giving birth a second time would be easier. I thought I would be back on my feet in a jiffy! I really did. 

As I am writing, I am realizing that I am still giving birth to the mother in me. This sweet, gentle, loving, caring, forgiving and happy woman who gives herself or should I say, sacrifices herself entirely (body, mind and soul included!) to her family and she does it soooooo naturally. 

Yes. I am still birthing her.  

Slowly trying to put all the broken pieces back together in the hope of becoming this masterpiece of Mom!


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