My Little Big Pumpkin

I am around two little boys all the time and I tend to forget that I am actually a grown up and they are quite small. It's like when a dog or cat doesn't realize that it's not human, because it's around people all the time and never around other animals.

This was especially true in the early days of motherhood for both sons. Those first couple months, moms typically don't get out of the house that often, and people tend to not want to bother them in the house, so they are left with just the tiny ones. When Matthew was born, I became so used to tiny little faces that at the end of the day when my husband would come through the door and lean in for a kiss, I'd nearly shriek in horror at how huge his face was.

At Daniel's Halloween parade this morning it hit me that he is still little. He may have a very big voice and a HUGE presence in this house, but he's still my little dude. He's the one on the end in the pumpkin costume.

Despite being little, kids at the age of three can have very large opinions, which might be why it's easy to forget their size. We didn't talk much about Halloween. I knew they were supposed to have a parade at school, but I figured I'd come up with something very last minute. Last minute happened in Walmart yesterday afternoon when we were running errands.

"So Daniel, what do you want to be for Halloween?"

"I want to be a pumpkin."

"A pumpkin? Not a ninja or a pirate?"

I'd decided two years ago I wouldn't be buying costumes, but at this point in the game, a $13 ready-made was sounding like a very convenient choice. It didn't even hit me until I got home that the parade was the next day and I didn't have time to make it that evening.

"No, I want to be a pumpkin."

"Okay, let's go see what they have in the craft section."

Well thank goodness for discount felt at Walmart and the ONE glue stick I had at home. I put him down for a nap and then sat down at the computer to figure out how to turn my kid into a pumpkin. By the time I got the main bit assembled, I dragged him out of bed to try on his blocky draw-string orange felt sack to figure out where to put arm holes. This led to streaming tears because he was trapped in orange felt, which not only was too long, but he was terrified his friends coming over later that evening would see. I shortened it up, re-strung the drawstring and took him out front for a picture.

More tears.

It turns out that just being a pumpkin wasn't what he had in mind. He needed a face, just like the $1 plastic jack-o-lantern. Yessir. On it.

With a face and a second fitting, my little man's tears dried up and he was all smiles and super excited about his costume.

It's amazing what parents will do to make these tiny little people smile. But those smiles, when they come are big enough to light up the whole room.

Well, It Sounded Like a Good Idea

Hi. I'm back.

So if you've been following my journey through Postpartum Depression, either through my random texts or emails to you or through occasional Twitter posts, you know that it's an ongoing process. I don't know when PPD is technically over and the woman is just left dealing with crazy. However, over the past month I felt I'd arrived and last week decided to go off medication. I was already on a fairly low dose, so I figured tapering down to zero would be no problem.

I. Flipped. A Lid.

Who knows why. Maybe I needed to slow down the process or maybe the cold meds and a house full of sickies were just bad timing, but I've decided that it's okay if I still need a little help. There's no pride to be had by doing it all on my own, and if a little medication enables me to be a better wife and mom - and to actually like myself - then so be it. Considering I've dealt with anxiety my whole life without treatment, it's probably even a good idea.

I feel a little embarrassed sharing all this, which shows me that the stigma around PPD and other disorders is real. No one wants to be marginalized or have their thoughts and emotions taken less seriously simply because they are dealing with depression. It wasn't until I shared with a community group that I was struggling that several women privately shared with me their own histories with depression and PPD. Why did I not already know this about them? I realize that these are very personal issues, but especially in the case of mothering an infant, help is needed. Being home feeding a small, helpless babe around the clock is already so isolating. When PPD is thrown into the mix, it is nearly intolerable.

Two weekends from now (November 5), I'm hosting a brunch for the women in my church to share their experiences or their fears of Postpartum Depression. I'm doing this because we don't talk about it, especially in church. Hopefully this brunch will help us learn how to support each other and be better educated on the signs of PPD and when to seek help. If you are in the Raleigh area and want to join us, send me note and I'll get the details to you.