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I hesitated whether I should even blog about this, knowing just how personal it is. However, as I've stated many times before, this blog serves mostly as my personal record-keeper and, therefore, I feel I must be honest for when, in the future, I want to look back. 

You may or may not know that I struggled big time with my emotions during my pregnancy with Leni. Right from the moment I found out I was pregnant, I had mixed feelings, even though it was very much a planned pregnancy and definitely a wanted one. That is how my first trimester went - not sure how I felt about the whole thing. That in itself made me feel so guilty... like why wasn't I elated like I was with Gemma?? 

Second trimester came along and I lost the ability to contain any emotion. If I was happy, I was happy. If I was angry, I would completely lose it. If I was sad, I wanted to die. But I wasn't feeling down ALL the time and the main issue was my anger, not depression, and I sought help with the community nurse who dealt exclusively with pregnant/postpartum women. Unfortunately, I found her to be very unhelpful and felt I could do things better on my own. Things eventually settled down and by the third trimester, I was feeling more in control again. 

Fast forward to Leni's birth and you know how traumatizing it was for me, though most people have said I was lucky that I didn't end up with a C-section. Whatever. I had a really hard time bonding with Leni for the first couple of months and, in fact, resented her for taking time away from Gemma and blamed her for Gemma's bad behavior/outcries for attention. 

But as Leni got older and began to interact more, flash me that adorable gummy smile and squeal with delight at my presence, my heart warmed to her. I started to understand the saying "I love all my kids the same" and began to feel that way. 

Somewhere along the way, however, my anger issues crept back up. I was inappropriately reacting to everything that was not to my liking (and you can imagine, a 2-year-old rarely does things "to my liking") and my mood was affecting my entire family. I hated the person I would become when I became agitated, but I couldn't stop myself. I was rationalizing with myself even in the "heat of the moment", telling myself I'm overreacting whatnot, but I couldn't physically stop the diarrhea of hurtful words coming out of my mouth. I couldn't make my body do what my mind wanted to do. 

I grew up with a verbally and physically abusive father and I don't want to be that person to my children or my husband. I don't want my children to live in fear of me or have the whole household adjust to one of my moods. I knew I needed help and BAD, but I wanted to hold off on any medical treatment, if necessary, until I weaned Leni at approximately 9-10 months, the same length of time I breastfed Gemma. 

Unfortunately, things got to the point where I knew the help needed to come sooner rather than later, before Gemma became permanently traumatized or was able to remember my being so angry. So after a lengthy discussion with Jesse, we decided weaning Leni would be the best decision in case I needed medical help or even to see if the hormones returning to normal would help ME return to normal. 

Leni was weaned very abruptly - within 48 hours she went from nursing five times a day to none. I had begun the pill to help dry me up (and that wasn't working as quickly as I had anticipated) and I didn't want the hormones passing through the milk. Physically, I was in a lot of pain and only pumped as little as I could just for some relief. Unbeknownst to me at the time, abrupt weaning makes for some serious hormonal imbalances, and I spiraled into a deep and dark depression. 

All I wanted to do was lay in bed and cry, not eat, not go anywhere. My boobs hurting would remind me of the guilt I felt for having to wean. Just looking at Leni was hard as her face would remind me of the guilt. I hated myself for being such a shitty and horrible mother to Gemma that I had to be a shitty and horrible mother to Leni and wean her to help me not be such a shitty and horrible mother. I convinced myself that she wasn't smiling for me anymore and that she no longer recognized me as her mother. I didn't want anyone to talk to me or come near me. I just wanted to run away and kill myself. 

Because of Christmas holidays, Jesse was off for the week and my mom was home most of the week, so they looked after the girls. They gave me plenty of sympathy and pretty well left me alone to deal with my emotional trauma. They didn't complain when I announced I would not be making turkey dinner on Christmas morning. They were uber supportive and let me be, even though I wonder if deep down they weren't annoyed and wanted me to snap out of it already...

It's been 12 days since I last nursed Leni and my boobs have returned back to normal. My mood has improved and I am noticing that the things that bothered me so much just a few weeks ago don't affect me as much. I am hoping that with my hormones going back to normal I can shake off this prenatal/postpartum depression for good and get back to my old, less crazy self. Hopefully I can do this on my own and not need any pharmacotherapy. I am finally allowing myself to accept that what's done is done, the breastfeeding is over, and at least she had 5+ months of it.... actually, I thought I accepted it, but just as I'm typing this, my eyes are welling up with tears...

2011 had a rough end for me, but I hope my choices will bring a brighter 2012. I hope I can be the parent I dreamed of being and all that the girls will ever feel from me are love and support, that they will never know what it is like to live with an angry/abusive mother, that they will one day want to be the kind of mother I was to them... That sounds like a lot of wishful thinking, but a person can hope... right?