Disclaimer:

My husband is spectacular but he is not a woman or a therapist. He is my light more often than not.

That being said, he has never had a tiny human grow inside of him. At this point we are two kids in, two years into our lifetime of marriage, 11 years into knowing each other, and yet we still struggle with communication at times. October 14, 2017 we said our vows in front of our closest friends and family. We prayed together often over the course of our relationship. Those prayers didn’t go unanswered. We were blessed with two beautiful girls, financial stability, and a whole lot of love. I’d be lying to if I said all of this has been easy.

To date, I have struggled a bit in silence with baby blues from baby number 2. During most of my pregnancy I had terrible anxiety. I would find pockets of time to be alone and I would have slight panic attacks. The anxiety stemmed from the unknown. How the hell would I be able to manage two kids? My thought process that I alone, would be the one handling everything is where the anxiety came from. My husband not only works a regular 9-5 but he has managed to successfully launch his lawn care business. This meant, all of spring, summer, and fall of 2018 I was left to my own devices with the then 2 year old and the growing baby in my belly. Weekends and evenings were filled with a super active toddler, fatigue, and vomiting.

During the course of my pregnancy I felt as if this new baby would break me. How in the hell would I be able to navigate two kids, work, and domestic duties without my partner by my side? He would come home drenched in sweat smelling like pure funk and I struggled to function. I felt alone. I would always get the “if you need anything let me know” text but people never really showed up. Who could blame them? Everyone has their own things going on. It was just me and the Munchkin. She would come up to me and squeeze me tight when I would cry and say, “it’s ok mommy.”

A part of me was angry at myself  for being so sick, tired, and anxious. This was my rainbow baby. We were on the other side of a miscarriage and this baby was only supposed to fill my body with goodness, light, rainbows and butterflies.Regardless of all of the ailments, I was creating life. So here we are, 13 weeks postpartum and I am finally starting to feel worthy.

The first 4 weeks were filled with highs and lows both physically and emotionally. As someone trained in mental health I understand the signs of postpartum. I knew what to look for. I recognized my symptoms but I ignored them. They weren’t the overt cues you hear about. I wanted to hold and snuggle my baby. I didn’t lock myself in a dark room. I enjoyed people for the most part. It manifested in me in different ways. I cried at the drop of a hat. Those communication issues I mentioned above were exacerbated. I couldn’t articulate my emotions. I cried a lot. Secretly. Alone in the shower. I would forget my train of thought and immediately cry. My attitude would shift within a second from normal to super sad. I was angry with the patience of a gnat.  

My husband was instrumental in my coming through to the other side. He doesn’t fully understand just how much though. It was the little things and the slick comments that kept me feeling like the old me. He once went out for gas and came home with the biggest bottle of Stella Rosa Black I’ve ever seen. When I told him how I felt off he told me I would be ok. He actually said “Stop actin like a loser.”  To you that might seem harsh. To me it says, “You got this, B.” He allowed me to navigate the terrain and kept a watchful eye.

I say all of this to say:     

As I am relaunching South Girl North it is imperative I recognize that parenting and marriage can be tricky but if I “stop actin like a loser,” I will navigate it with grace. Without a doubt there will be struggles throughout my life, throughout my marriage, and while raising my Sour Patch Kids. I hope you’re ready to follow my struggles and triumphs as I row through the waters ahead.

Alexa play Love Like There’s No Tomorrow by The War Treaty