Postpardum depression

Question

She felt like such an awful person…How could she not love her own flesh and blood? Holding her child in her arms should feel like she was holding and angel; not a stranger. The newborn had finally stopped crying and for a second; she smiled…maybe this isn’t so bad. She walked around the room trying to get him to fall asleep, and trying to convince herself that the smile she wore on her face wasn’t fake. As he started to finally close his eyes she looked up and around the room. Her husband had spent a lot of time and money building it, so it would be perfect. The walls were blue; nothing out of the ordinary there. There were wooden shelves on one of the walls, and resting on them were a bunch of teddy bears and a few other toys from family and friends. Adjacent to that wall was a medium sized window with clown curtains flowing down over it; she never really like those curtains but her husband liked them so she never complained. She knew how hard he had worked on the room. Even if it was out of guilt because he had to leave on a lengthy business trip shortly after the baby was born. There was an antiqueish looking wooden crib in the middle of the room, which her husband had touched up so it looked old, but in perfect condition. In the crib was a blue blanket that was made for the baby from his grandmother. The room was carpeted in blue which matched perfectly with the walls. The room was the depiction of perfection The door was painted white with more clowns painted in a row on the middle part of the door. She giggled aloud with amusement as she thought of her husbands obvious fascination with clowns. Her laughter woke up her baby and he started to cry. All the calm she had finally started to feel when her baby was asleep in her arms vanished and turned into anger and bitter resentment towards her him. She didn’t understand why the stupid thing wouldn’t shut the **** up…She wanted so terribly to viscously shake him to get him to stop making such noise. Horrified by her thoughts she put him in his crib and desperately placed the pacifier in his mouth. He quieted and with that she slowly walked towards the door, and as she was about to close it, she looked around the perfect room her husband built for their child, and a tear began to gently roll down her cheek. She chipped a piece of paint of the door looked at her baby, and under her breath said “No one deserves perfection, not even you.” Then she closed the door and walked down the hall to her bedroom.

Answer 1

You write very well.  I don't believe there is such a thing as perfection. Some days just stink!  This was one of those days. It does get better. I had some of those exact same feelings after my first child was born and my husband had gone off too. I doubted my own sanity. But as you did, I had sense enough to walk away. You're questioning yourself and that fact alone tells me you are going to be ok. But if you don't think you can control yourself, your doctor can perscribe something for you.