When SuperMom Loses Her Super – Part 3

If you know me in real life, please understand that making this public is very hard for me and that I may not actually want to talk about this in person. You’re welcome to try to talk to me about it, but don’t be surprised or offended if I don’t respond in-depth.

If you’re just joining me, you can read part 1 here and part 2 here.

birth announcement for Little Bear

Little Bear was born in March, 2011. The pregnancy was my most difficult, and I was thrilled to finally welcome my little fella into the world. Robert’s work gave him one week of paternity leave, and he took two additional weeks of vacation. I thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of having him home that long, and he did a great job taking care of everything. Honestly, he’s a much better housekeeper than I am. I wish I could hire him. 😉

The postpartum period went well since I had an extended period of time where I mainly had to take care of Little Bear and myself. The girls were in school, and Robert went back to work, leaving me home with the two boys. Life seemed pretty good.

Then came summer.

Robert is a lineman with the local power company. Here in eastern NC, summer brings thunderstorms, which in turn bring power outages. And then the linemen have to restore power, no matter how long it may take. Robert gets a lot of overtime during the summer. Good for the paycheck. A bit hard on Mama!

The summer weeks slipped by, and I found myself growing increasingly short-tempered and desperate to escape the demands that met me at every turn. I often lost all patience and screamed at the kids. I never called them names or belittled them, but I could see the hurt my rage caused them, and I felt like such a horrible mother. I really thought they’d be better off without me as their mom.

I sincerely tried to do better, but my attempts didn’t seem to make any difference. Any little thing could set me off.

I often call a very dear friend. We always enjoy chatting and can easily talk for two hours without any silent spaces in our conversations. She could tell I was struggling and asked probing questions to determine exactly what was going on. I shared honestly how I was doing and feeling, and she told me that she was worried about me because I sounded very depressed. I agreed that I was but explained that I thought everyone felt that way and if they could keep going so could I.

After many conversations, my friend finally convinced me that my feelings were not normal but indicated that I needed help. I was willing to ask for help. I desperately wanted help. I felt like I was drowning and about to go under for the last time.

But I didn’t know where to get the help I needed.

Comments

  1. So glad you got help and you’re still here with us. xoxo

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