From a Vulnerable Place

Today was a throw-away. A bad apple. A dip on the postpartum roller-coaster. When I wasn't crying, I was griping at my poor husband or losing my cool with my kids. If I wasn't doing that, I was sitting on the couch with zombie face, holding Henry, lost in that miserable fog of mind-numbing blah-ness.

To say I was 'not at my best' is putting it nicely.

I know this is a normal slump in the postpartum hormonal adjustment routine - but knowing it's typical doesn't make it better in my mind. Shouldn't I be able to rise above it? Shouldn't it be like...like a break-up phone call? If I know it's coming, shouldn't I be able to acknowledge it when it hits and then move past it without a hiccup - and certainly before it affects my family?

Thank heavens for the earnest smiles of a stubbornly cheerful one year old. The smell of a newborn. The constant stream of trains, tractors, cars and 'guys catching cheeto's' drawn by a three year old on his trusty magna-doodle.

I love that the moment-by-moment cure for the moment-by-moment struggles brought on by having children is the children themselves. Like heavy rain during a lightning storm.

But mostly? Thank heavens for Bill. For his cool head when mine is in a panic. For his calm words when I need a call back to reality. For his steadiness when my inner balance is so shaky. For his superhuman patience even when I'm abusing him so unfairly. For his voice in my ear when I find myself wavering, "Talk to me."

I hate it when I am like this. But Bill? He just loves me anyway.

This above all else gets me through. Being half of this team gives me both the reason to fight and what I'm fighting for.

It gives me the ability to look at today - see that it's just a bad apple - throw it away - and start again tomorrow.