Be brave

Ok guys fair warning, this could get a bit mushy.

This time last year was when I was finally forced to face the fact that I needed help. I knew things were not really ok, I knew it was more then postpartum blues. I was really afraid though. Isaac was having seizures and Zoey was going through a really colicky phase. I was afraid that if I asked for help I would seem incompetent and my babies would get taken away. This maybe should have been a sign for me, after all I work with social workers almost every day. I know why kids are removed from their homes and I know that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness. Still I was so afraid to show this side of myself, the hot mess mama who thought that her kids were going to simply drop dead for no reason.

I waited so long and struggled so hard to have my babies I knew they were going to get taken away somehow… I just felt like they couldn’t possibly be mine to keep.

I’m sure a lot of people close to me were noticing the struggle I had but I was working really hard to hide it. There was one person in my family who was brave enough to speak up and tell me it was time to get some help. She babysat my kids and made me go to the doctor. She has been my rock and my support for a lot of things that I just felt other people wouldn’t understand. She has listened to me cry about the most ridiculous worries, like how obviously we can’t go anywhere because the toddler will get kidnapped by human traffickers. She has let me complain about my husband and how he never comes home on time, obviously this means he is having a sordid affair with some young hot thing in all his spare time. She has shared countless bottles of wine, rum, and other “mommy juice” with me.

So to this awesome auntie THANKYOU!!! Thank you for making me a better mama, thank you for helping me find myself, thank you for helping me to know that I don’t have to go back to a pre baby body. I love you!

Excuse me I think there is some goldfish dust in my eye. *Sniffles*