A few weeks after my first child was born, long after everyone else had gone back to their daily routines, I was left alone with fatigue and a mild-case of
postpartum depression (
post natal), one giant, smelly dog, two cats, one bird, and a bacteria infested exotic frog. Oh... and a newborn baby, let's not forget the baby. Everyone of those little lives needed something from me, and I needed sleep.
I didn't have enough energy to spread the love, clean the pet messes, and change the baby. I was simply overcome by Bleh. I knew I needed to be strong for the baby but the monotony of being alone with all of these creatures in a messy house for eight hours everyday had taken its toll.
One day, the doorbell rang. Begrudgingly, I threw on my best hospital, maternity robe, slid on my fuzzy, pink slippers, threw the baby on my hip, and shuffled to the door. Standing on tippy toes, I snuck a peek through the peep hole. A bright-eyed, delivery girl with a broad smile peered over a huge arrangement of flowers.
With both hands wrapped around baby, I struggled to free one to open the door. Her contagious smile and bubbly personality brightened my grumpy, hermit-loving mood. I became giddy as I signed for the
flowers. The presentation was unique. Flowers were displayed in an earthenware container reminding me of the ancient ruins.
I plopped my son into a baby bouncer and quickly cleared a place in the center of the mantle, out of reach from babies, birds, curious cats, and a dog who would eat anything. Then, I dropped to the couch and opened the card.
"Thought you might need a pick me up about now."
Of course, I bawled like a little baby (remember I was postpartum). How did they know? I barely knew the sender at the time - my father-in-law and step mother-in-law who live out of the country.
The special delivery came at the perfect time giving me a little pick-me-up to press on for the next few weeks. Nothing is more heart-warming than knowing someone is thinking about you in your darkest moments.
Why not surprise someone who is going through a rough patch.
Seven years later, after a fall that rivaled Humpty Dumpty, the patched container sits on my mantle, looking more than ever like ancient ruins, holding my own arrangement of silks and reminding me of that special moment.
What is Postpartum depression learn more here.
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| My postpartum depression pick me up! |
