Can postpartum depression strike sixteen months after the baby is born? No, no, I suppose at that point it would just be plain ole' run-of-the-mill depression. How boring of me.
Actually, though, it's not so much depression as an unfortunate combination of cabin fever and a very bad morning with Her Highness. Yesterday, in fact, I was fine. I finally got to leave the house and go have pizza with another couple last night- with baby in tow, as it's rather tricky to secure a last minute sitter on Valentine's Day, but it was still fun. Both of us girls were not feeling exactly up to par, being in our first trimester, but for me it didn't hit until I got home. I got the horrible indigestion which has been plaguing me, it seems, since the second after I conceived, and I was curled in bed nursing my misery by nine pm. (Am I a hot date or what?)
This morning started on a bad note, though, when Addy woke up crying and unhappy, a rarity. She didn't want her diaper changed, cried and stiffed every time I tried to put her in her highchair for breakfast, wouldn't eat, etc. I don't think she's sick, fever-wise, but she's definitely acting weird the last few days.
Today was the worst so far. She moaned and whined and threw her waffle and Cheerios all over the floor while I tried to eat my own breakfast and then face the sink full of dishes. She managed to find my stash of Andes mints and smear them all over herself, dumped my entire water bottle down my back and all over my bed, threw a total hissy fit because I wouldn't let her have my ballpoint pen, and so on and so forth. Just lots of craziness. She's in her bed now, sleeping it off, and I am trying to vent to get rid of the tension headache.
Partly it was my attitude, I'm sure. I came into the kitchen this morning to see that I hadn't done the dishes last night, and they were all piled in the sink, smelling horrid to my nauseous self. I was immediately in a bad mood knowing I had to first unload all the clean dishes, then load the dishwasher right back up and start it again. Not feeling good plus cranky baby plus messy kitchen equals a not so patient mommy.
And yet... I just reread all that, and I realize it's such petty stuff, really. My child isn't seriously ill, isn't autistic or developmentally delayed, isn't physically handicapped. I have nothing to complain about, really. So she was grumpy. So it hurt my feelings a little that she turned magically happy as soon as I put her in her bed and left the room. Big deal. She is a beautiful, bright little girl who was just a little wound up and needed some alone time. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed. So did I. It happens.