Posted in All, Musings

The crescendo and the timbits

It got bad. It got to the point of calling the crisis line and considering putting myself in the hospital for a while until I could see the light again. Dave wanted me to quit pumping. We’d had heard about women that quit breastfeeding and almost immediately had their postpartum depression or anxiety clear up. My doctor hadn’t heard of this and couldn’t find any research on it, but he was on board with quitting because then we could safely adjust my medication. It made sense, but everything in my being was telling me that wasn’t the answer.

I put up a post on one of the twin mom groups on FB to see if other moms had dealt with this issue. I think there was 16 comments, and all but two or three talked about their PPD/PPA dissolving after they stopped breastfeeding. What caught me was those two or three saying that their issues worsened after they stopped breastfeeding. I wasn’t as worried about things getting worse, but what if nothing changed and I had sacrificed my milk. My babies need that to get the best start in life. Dave and the Doc argued that the difference between breast milk and formula was negligible compared to not having a mom either through distance and complications from depression, or through having to commit myself.. Or worse… And that’s a very valid argument. I hadn’t been doing tummy time with the kids, I barely played with them… Kind of just set them up to play or sleep and watched TV or played on my phone. Then I got mad when they started fussing but knew it was because they needed attention. I couldn’t handle their crying because I couldn’t cope with the stress of it, but also because I felt guilty. Like I’d failed them and was just giving up because of it.

I felt like I was in a pit like in Silence of the Lambs. Except instead of a pervert wanting me to lotion up to make for a nicer skin jacket, I had children screaming at me. Ok so not a great analogy, but it’s what I thought of when I felt like I was in a pit. It made sense to stop breastfeeding, but like I said – every single thing inside me told me that wasn’t the answer. I could find another way.

Last night I couldn’t get the kids calm, and could feel another mental meltdown coming. I went to visit Dave on his break and then went for a quick walk on the sea wall so the kids would chill. On the way I stopped to get a coffee, and some Courtenay Crack – birthday cake timbits. Holy shit those are a huge problem for me. Anyways… I was gonna get 10 but Dave wanted me to save him some, so I got 20. And of course ate all 20 of those little bastards on my 45 minute walk. That was my dinner. I felt like absolute shit for the rest of the night, I even thought I was going to throw up. But – BUT! I was in a pretty damned good mood and actually enjoyed my kids. What an insane concept!

Every once in a while I get really tired of my own shit and decide to make a change. Those timbits were the catalyst for that change. Not only did eating all that crap make me realize how much my diet was affecting me, but that short (and very enjoyable) walk brought my mood up higher than it had been in weeks. So I looked at the last few weeks of misery.

  • My diet had gone to shit and I was eating mostly sugar. Munching like crazy, barely drinking water, and I’d almost completely forgotten what vegetables tasted like
  • I hadn’t walked at all. Not even my quick laps around the neighborhood. Basically just to my vehicle and back.
  • I’ve been smoking a bit of pot on the weekends and nights where I am really, really losing my shit – which I know to be inflammatory to the body and a total depressant.

These are all super basic things that I know will help me. Even if I get one of these three under control the results would be staggering. But it’s cycle and always has been for me. I smoke pot and it makes me hungry, so I eat a whole bunch of shit food. Plus I get all groggy the next day, especially if I munch out (which I usually do because my mother in law always makes cookies.) I feel like shit and go into denial as to why I feel like shit, then all of a sudden two or three weeks later I’m having breakdowns and trying not to put myself in the psych ward. Before I had kids it was a totally manageable cycle. Now? Between the extra tonne of stress and the hormones from breastfeeding and being a new mom, it fucks me up.

So.. Once I put this together, I decided I was done with all of the misery and decided I had to make a change. If I do all of this and STILL can’t get my mood under control, ok sure. I’ll quit breastfeeding. But I can’t do nothing to improve myself and then feel good about not giving my kids breast milk. I’m lucky enough to be able to make as much milk as I do. I only have to give them an ounce of formula each bottle. And they’re on five or six ounce bottles right now. It’s mostly breast milk. And yeah, it’s not 100% fresh cuz I could never get into breastfeeding with them but it’s still breast milk. I owe it to those amazing little bastards to give them everything I can. I owe them the best version of myself. And that version doesn’t eat an entire batch of cookies after a joint every weekend.

With all that said, I publish my current goals. Maybe it’ll make me more accountable. I dunno..

  • Walk a MINIMUM of four times a week. Aim for seven, but shit happens and it’s been raining a lot lately. (Mall walks count though…)
  • Cut the fuck down on sugar. I’m not setting a specific parameter on this because I do use it to cope a lot, and I’m not sure how to successfully do it other than to avoid it as much as possible.
  • Only smoke pot once or twice a month instead of every weekend, but aim for zero pot. Sometimes I have panic attacks and lorazepam doesn’t really chill me out like it should. Saying I only have two freebies will make me really assess if the meltdown is worth substance abuse
  • Keep up with the blog. Finish all the drafts and the instructional stuff that isn’t just a glorified diary
  • Learn scriptwriting and try to start putting my movie and TV ideas into paper. Also, finish the damned children’s book.

There. You just became my accountabili-buddy. Go team! I’ll have to keep you posted. The writing goals are obviously really long term, but I think I could probably get some cool stuff down. I think I have cool ideas, but we all think we have cool ideas lol. Time to find out for realzzzzz…

Posted in All, Musings, My Story, Useless Opinions

So, I guess I’ll start a blog…

I write this as my twin babies are being held by my fiance and mother-in-law. I started earlier with this super fantastic, amazing intro post but it met a fitting end. I reached over the computer to put a soother back in a baby face and closed the browser with my tit. Derp. Welcome to “My Tits Hurt,” so named for the thing I’ve said the most since I got pregnant. Might have even been the thing that tipped me off in the first place.

I figured I’d start blogging. Something between a mommy blog and a personal therapy journal, maybe. My grammar has gone to shit since the days of high school English (or maybe ‘Communications’ in College..) But I still feel like I can form coherent sentences. I guess you can be the judge. I did a lot of writing up until I finished high school. From little stories about animals in homemade storybooks in the early days of elementary school, to writing emo poetry in the early teens, and some epic short stories and essays in later grades. All lost forever. Man, I wish I could get my hands on even half of the stories. That shit was impressive! I digress.. I always say I’m going to start writing. A novel, a movie or TV script… A blog? Lately I feel like I have something I could start on. Maybe this will help me get past some intense writer’s block and I’ll get all of that done! I always found writing to help me sort out my thoughts. Being a new mother to twins in the middle of a pandemic – I have done a lot of thinking lately.

Life is funny. I used to judge people on their parenting long before I had kids, and think about how much better I could do it. I can hear Nelson Muntz pointing and laughing at me now for that. I’m learning just how much work it is, and how wrong I was about so many things – minor and major. For example: I was really cocky about postpartum depression. “I’ve dealt with my mental health problems, I have all the tools I need,” I said. In the words of 2007 – ROFLCOPTR. That shit hit me like a sack of hormonal bricks. Or like… How to ease a baby back into sleeping in their bassinets that just don’t friggin’ want to. Plus simple, less life altering things. How to make a baby registry. How to organize my nursery ahead of time so I don’t have to do it 6 different times while dealing with two f*cking newborns and a partner that works full time. I dunno. Just stuff I wish I knew, or maybe researched a little better before the babies came.

So – things about babies and things I wish I knew about babies. But also me working out my postpartum shit, and trying to figure out how to be the amazing parent that I decided I would be long before I even got pregnant. I want to have calm, cool and collected kids. And to have that, I’ve decided I have to step up and become the absolute best I can be. Put that up against time and energy levels… I don’t want to just half-ass it and expect them to learn how to be the best through instruction though – kids learn by example! Or seem to. Again with the parenting ego. I’ve had a lot of deep thoughts lately about parenting and how I want to do it. I’m learning a lot about how my ideas stack up against their individual personalities. My kids have SO much personality and they’re only 4 months old. And I don’t want to be the type of person that tries to break them to meet my ideals. I have to be able to work with their already amazing selves and turn them into amazing human beings. Ah – What a struggle! So I figure if I can get back into writing, maybe I can use it to sort my thoughts out and figure out what I want to do. I’d love to have people to get into the comments too, I wanna learn everything I can from people. I have no ego! Examine all the angles. Maybe we are going through the same shit, or even better – maybe we disagree and can discuss it. Or maybe I attract some haters that think I’m a bad parent. I’m good with that.

So, there you have it. The Diary of a MadMom. A candid, open-dialogued… I dunno, account? Journal? Diatribe? Let’s go with barely concise rant rife with curse words. And opinions. And probably bad grammar. Maybe even a pun or two. I truly hope you like it!