I won’t say that things have gone from bad to worse since my last post. It’s pretty much the same but with a certain intensity brewing beneath the surface. My having a small head cold over the weekend hasn’t helped things. Nor has being up in the night and then needing to rest during the day, leaving Hubby to take the brunt of the work on Sunday.
I can see that he’s stressed, that the twinkle in his eyes has gone for the moment. Part of me was hoping it was just tiredness and nothing more.
THE LEAD UP
I think it’s fair to say that we’re both people who don’t necessarily cope with change very well, especially when it happens quite fast. Hubby started a new job, we discovered I was pregnant with twins, we sold our house and moved interstate all within the space of three months. We knew starting fresh in a new place with no existing contacts would be difficult, not to mention with two newborns but then NICU happened. A blessing and a curse because the experience was awful but I made a few special friends too.
You all know about Little Red’s ongoing health issues which play constantly on our mind. I’ve also been open about my mental health, or lack thereof. All things I’m now thankfully coping with quite well. I guess it makes sense that as I become stronger, Michael might need to take off his superhero cape and rest for a while. At the very least, try and recoup mentally.
I am so proud of how Hubby works so hard both with his job and at home. I don’t see it as him “helping me out”, it’s more that we need all hands on deck because we’re out numbered! Michael has never shied away from changing nappies, cleaning or doing night feeds. Regularly taking work calls and answering emails at various times of the day, early morning, late night and on weekends is the norm. I’m so proud of him, and I know admitting that he’s struggling was a big thing for him (yes, he did give me permission to share on my blog).
With all the overwhelming things that led up to my Post Natal Depression, I don’t think anything came close to those frightening weeks where I spiralled. I was suicidal. There is no other way to put it. Life felt like a fudging hard slog but in all that, we kept going. Hubby kept us going.
I relied heavily on him, it WAS a huge burden because, at the time, I didn’t really share how bad I was going with anybody else. Actually, I don’t think either of us did. As Michael left for work some days I could see the fear in his eyes. Would I still be alive when he got home? Were his children going to be okay in my care? I think he’d tell you that he knew I’d never hurt the children or not tend to their needs, but deep down? Maybe there was a glimmer a doubt. I saw it, for sure. I saw it in his eyes on those mornings.
Truth be told, that time does continue to haunt me. If only I’d coped better, been more of a team player rather than needing to be taken care of. Logically I know there is no shame or guilt to be had on my part, but I can’t help feeling that I’ve caused this. I mean, how could there be no fallout? I also know, that Hubby may have felt this way regardless of my own mental well-being, but again, possibly not. I guess we’ll never know, we just have to keep going.
Now I’m on my happy pills and feeling in a much better place, Michael is fading. As much as it pains me to see I can also appreciate that that’s okay. It would be wrong of me to expect him to be untouchable in that sense. But, I’m hoping some quality RR when my folks come out for a visit will help. Our soon-to-be-meeting with the orthopedic specialist might also help ease some anxiety. But, cape or no cape, he’ll always be our hero.