Let me start by saying, sorry I haven’t written for an age. I may have mentioned 2 or 3 (or 6547) times that I sometimes get depressed. My depression manifests itself as a complete inability to do anything except get by. And now that I have a baby and can’t just selfishly do what it takes to get by, my depression apparently manifests itself as taking care of her needs and ignoring mine entirely. But who cares? That’s not what I want to write about because the clouds are finally parting and I seem to be coming back to earth and you don’t really need to read another effing blog about depression right? Yes, I should be medicated but I’m still breast feeding and contemplating another pregnancy and I know they say there are medications that are safe in both of those scenarios but I don’t believe it.
Anyway – what I wanted to write about (and meant to last week when it had actually been a year) was about how one year in a life can make a helluva difference, you know? Like, last year at this time I was living in poverty in the ugliest, shittiest, worst apartment/neighborhood of all time, not sleeping at all for the pounds of anxiety resting squarely on my chest , wondering how we were going to pay bills and eat dinner, wondering if I would ever finish school and when I did would I find a job and blah blah blah and oh yeah, soon I will be raising a baby which I don’t really know how to do and then we went to the 20-week ultrasound and found out the baby was missing a hand and jesus fucking christ are you kidding me? Yeah. That was last year. It wasn’t a good one. In fact, even though things starting looking up at the end of April and my daughter was born in July (and she is the greatest thing that ever happened EVER) I still consider 2012 a steaming pile of shit. And I wasn’t sad to see it go. The point is, though, that when people say things like “things will get better” or “this too shall pass” (okay, maybe only Mormons say that) they’re totally not bullshitting. Things do get better. My daughter and her one hand are perfectly fine. She is almost 8 months old now and is perfectly on target (despite the fact that she was born 3 weeks early – take THAT idiot doctors who wrote “possible developmental delays” in her hospital discharge papers causing me to miss more than one night’s sleep). She does pushups on that left, stumpy wrist and she shoves herself around in the pre-crawl shuffle – you know, the adorable Army crawl thing that kids do. She is just like all of the other kids only cuter because she’s mine.
What the hell am I trying to say with all of this stream of consciousness nonsense? Get to the point, Anjeanette. I’m a little sleep deprived (not because of my daughter but because my chronic, ridiculous, severe back pain is getting worse and waking me up in the middle of the night) so constructing complete sentences is a little difficult. The point is that a year ago I was in a horrible place. A crushing, devastating place of worry and fatigue and sadness and now, a year later, everything has changed for the better. Hard work and determination have paid off. My husband got a better job, and then a promotion and raise. I finished school and 15 minutes later (okay, maybe it was 5 days) I got a job. I work from home and make my own hours so that I can spend my days with my daughter and she never has to go to daycare, which was a major goal and the very reason that I quit my well-paying job and switched careers. We live in a better place and are saving for a house. Everything that was seemingly wrong with my little one (again, screw you doctors) is fine. Her head has reshaped so that she doesn’t need the helmet and we don’t have to go to PT once a week and listen to her scream herself sick on the way home. The tiny holes in her heart have sealed up and I don’t have to followup with the cardiologist anymore. She’s perfect and growing and healthy.
So my question, Universe, is: now what? The pessimistic part of me (which is pretty much all of me) is wondering when all of the bad shit is going to start happening again. The optimistic part of me (which is pretty much my husband) thinks everything is going to be good from now on. We’ll see. We’llllll seeeeeee.