Postpartum Depression

It hurts.
It is maddening.
It claims my (what's left of) sanity.

Ever since giving birth,
I try not to give in to shaytaan's whispers,
To do deceitful things,
That could harm my marriage,
Or our son.

But I couldn't help it.
It maddens me,
And I couldn't convey it to my own husband,
Keeping it to myself.

There was a time I hated Faez,
I wished he won't come home,
I wished he won't ask anything of me,
Because of my Postpartum depression,
Or whatever I think of it.

I hated my husband,
Thinking he doesn't care,
Either about me or our son,
That he's being laissez faire,
That he is not fully invested in parenthood.

But that was when he was away,
When he is here,
I try to conceal it as much I can,
Because I don't want to stir our marriage.

But I cry,
And I cry.

I was not that weak,
To the extent of hurting our son.
I love him too much to do that.
I gripped through so I won't lose it.
Though lacking sleep,
Through tears and wailing,
I want a happy newborn memory for him,
Not the memory of me doing something sinister to my son,
Just because I was depressed.

I hated my husband,
When he wants me to be at in-laws alone,
Without him,
When I'm better at my own home.

He doesn't go through what I am going through,
He doesn't feel the sinking feeling,
Of your mental deteriorating,
Your physical crumbling,
And you hate every single thing about yourself.

I'm pulling through,
Everything is because of Harraz.
He is the only reason.

Arrival

It's been soooo long!!

Alhamdulillah,
Widget has safely arrived in our arms a month ago.

I have so much in my tiny little hands,
Juggling my time as a new parent,
And marveling this little Allah's creature,
Sent to us to be cherished,
To be loved.

I started calling our Widget "Woodpecker",
Since I found out his habit of pecking during breastfeeding.

Motherhood is tough.
There are times I want to cry,
Times I think that my husband doesn't fully invested in our child,
The feeling that I am alone in parenting.

It's exhausting,
To wake up every 2 hours in the middle of the night,
And to ensure he doesn't choke on his milk,
To always be aware,
And the insecurities of not fully able to breastfeed.

Breastfeeding is the ultimate challenge.
I am constantly worried about my lack of milk,
I'm worried he won't get the nutrition from a mother's milk,
That he won't get satisfied,
That the milk will squirt out from his nostrils,
That he'll get SIDS.

I'm worried and scared.

I guess this is the life of a Mum, huh?
Constant worrying and getting scared something will hurt your child,
Or you're not good enough to keep him safe.

I tried.
By God I try so hard.
I try to be patient,
I try to give him what he needs and deserved,
And it exhausts physically and mentally.
It's exhausting because I feel so alone.

I hope I will stop thinking like this after my confinement,
Since Post partum depression is really nerve-wrecking,
And I only want the best for him.

Be patient with Ibuk,
Love.
Ibuk is learning too..