S:
"I'm not going to see some psychiatrist," I roll my eyes, carrying Hudson through the kitchen as Lindsey and Betsy both follow close behind.
It feels like everyone has turned against me, and I mean everyone. Even Bridget called from boot camp the other night, telling me to seek some help... I don't need help with anything besides making a couple of bottles.
I mean, I know I don't feel the same and I don't act the same- but hell, I just had two babies only months before my fiftieth birthday. It's hard for me, but motherhood isn't simple for anyone at any age.
"When was the last time you left this house?" Betsy's hands fall on her hips, a stern look on her face.
"I went to the grocery store the other day, and the post office the day before that." I know that isn't much, but hauling around two infants isn't easy all alone.
Going places and doing things without two more hands is almost impossible.
"Well, are you taking your anti- depressants?" Lindsey's standing by the island, rocking Helena slowly in his arms.
"Yes, and I'm fine!" I shout, wincing when I remember my baby boy is snuggled into me. "Sorry, honey." I whisper, lightly kissing the top of his head.
I've become quite accustomed to carrying around the babies in a swaddle, because feeling their skin pressed to my body is probably one of the most perfect things about motherhood. And like I've said, I have to have them close, at least one.
"Listen," Betsy raises an eyebrow as she falls onto a kitchen stool. "This is serious, mom... very serious." She says it like I don't already know that.
I'm living in my body- a body I hate at the moment. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my own skin and I think that's what makes me the saddest. It occurred to me that losing a ton of weight at my age is almost unrealistic. I have no time to do my hair, my nails, makeup is once in a blue moon nowadays, so I sure as hell can't fit a jog into my schedule...
Not to mention I have this bizarre fear of being away from the babies. I wasn't like this with Betsy and Bridget, not at all. I remember going to do things all of the time with them, because there was an age gap. I had a toddler and an infant, which might sound hard, but this is much more difficult.
"This is going to sound awful, but women do crazy things when they suffer from postpartum depression. I read that one woman-"
"Okay, okay, okay. Enough." I hold up my hand, cutting her off. I already know what she's going to say and I don't want to hear it.
"Stevie, I think you should listen." Lindsey pipes up, which actually makes me mad.
I appreciate him, I really do, but I do not appreciate him defending Betsy. She brings a ridiculous case into this conversation- absolutely wrong and for him to even hear that out is beyond me.
"I'm not going to listen to something I don't want to listen to." I crease my brows, a totally pissed expression marking my face. "I am fine. Sure, I look terrible and I feel awkward in my own body, but I'm not nuts." I argue, almost offended that they would even bring up some story they read about online, or saw in the news... A story that has absolutely nothing to do with me.
