Category: Feeling blue

Time..lack of

So I took two days off from work. Well because I wanted to spend some extra time with Buzz.

What I actually spend time doing was finishing tasks in my ever growing ToDo list. With some unexpected but important things added, like cooking in bulk for a friend who is recovering from a C-section delivery with no help. Her 3 week old is not doing so well and her elder daughter caught a bug at school and is home sick. Poor thing was in such a sad state and providing food was my little contribution in helping her.

Now that my two days are up, I sit and take a log of all the time I spend with Buzz. Not too much. That is not to say that I did not spend any time with her. It’s just that I did not spend as much time as I wanted to. And a tiny part of me resents the fact that D is out of town, on a much deserved vacation that I insisted that he take. If he were in, he would have helped making a dent in the long list of chores to be completed and given me some extra time. But more than that, he is my shoulder to lean on, the voice of reason when I over think things, the one to knock some sense into me. He is my other half, not my better half, but my partner in life, the one who completes me.

So missing D, hording my time with Buzz, shaking my head at the long list of things to still finish.

On the plus’s going to be a short work week and D comes back soon 🙂

Leaving you with a song which used to play in a loop in my music player back in the days when we were on different ends of the world.

So tell me your special song for your special someone.

Friend of mine..

Growing up there was always friends of the family that were over. I don’t ever remember a time when there was not someone over for lunch, dinner, tea, gupshup or we were not heading over to someone’s place. Then one day Maa announced that one of her friend was coming down to visit for a few days and would be staying at our place. This in my mind stands out as a memory from all the other coming, going which is blur mass, for I remember being a little surprised. Were all the other people who came over not Mom’s friends? After that I started analyzing everyone that came home..immediate and extended family, Paa’s work buddies and their family, neighbours, Paa’s friends either growing up or who he went to school with. So everyone was either Paa’s friend, worked with Paa or were people Maa and Paa had made friends with after they got married. No friends of Maa from before their wedding.

The day before Maa’s friend was about to come over, I hesitantly asked Maa why this was the case. She smiled and said growing up she moved a lot owing to my uncles job and would write to her friends for a while and then things would slack off. Then she got married. Moved to a different state, keeping in touch with family and taking care of her kids left her with little or no time to even keep up the once in a while letters with her friends. They went on to further dusty shelves of her memory. Maa also seemed to imply that it’s more difficult for women to maintain her friends than it is for guys. I did understand parts of the conversation but not completely.

Today I understand. After we were married, I moved here leaving behind my family, my job, my friends. I was embraced with open arms by D’s friends and they are really close to my heart now. They are as much my friends as they are D’s. But my friends..the ones who stood united with me during our combined ragging days, my support system away from home while we were in the hostel, the wall that stood together through the end of teenage angst and early twenties crushes, the shoulders that soaked the tears when things got tough, the ones I can claim as my own, not D’s, not share with my family, just mine..where are they? Technology has made it easy for me to keep in touch with them. There are emails, Orkut scraps, Facebook wall posts. I always know what is going on in their life. Some I have not met since the day I boarded the train home, with four years of stuff on the floor bellow my berth, four years of memories streaming down our faces as tears, and four years of family who knew me better than my parents waving at me as the train slowly moved away from the platform. And time has done it usual magic. The edges of the memories are starting to fade. The urge to share every happening , the need to write or chat or call every day in no more. Even when I go back to India my social obligations to my family and D’s family does not make the meeting possible. Also while I am on vacation, their life goes on and even when I do have free time, they can’t seem to get away from their family, their obligations. Contrast that to D’s set of friends. Before he lands he has written to his friends, they agree on a date, time, place to meet. Wives and kids are left to each other while the guys get together, talk, laugh, reminisce old times. Not fair I tell you.

So if you guys are wondering, why the ramble. Well today is my friend’s Birthday. A friend I was closest to. The one who I learnt the most from. The one who was so mature that the glimpse of child that you saw sometimes took us all by surprise. The one who was such an innocent in some ways that we all banded together to protect her from hurt. The one who was the feistiest of the lot if it came to defending her friends. Post marriage she lives in this place up in the mountains, at a dam construction site, that she has the patchiest cellphone reception and a non-existant internet connection. So keeping in touch with her became next to impossible. I was so down in the dumps about not being able to talk to her, wish her on her birthday for the past few days. When yesterday night I got a mail from her. MAIL FROM HER. Did the moon fall off the sky? Her mail was short and to the point. ‘Moved to Noida. Phone number 011–…Call me’.

Yay Yay Yay. I just spoke to her, talked for an hour at least. And now I am not feeling blue. Life is so good right now. 😀 😀

The not so nice..

You hear everyone talk about the upside..the joy..the love of having a baby..and they are all true. But unknown to people without kids and unspoken by the ones that do..there is phase which is not so nice..called postpartum depression..every woman I know and have spoken to who has had babies, has gone through some form of PD (or milder form called Baby Blues)..but no one (at least in the Indian women) is ready to openly talk about it or even completely acknowledge that they went through the blues. Is it because our society does not think mental trauma is a form of sickness that needs to be talked about and it because we think on acknowledging depression we leave ourselves open to being called Paagal..or is it the dread of being called a bad parent in general and a bad mother specifically if we come out in the open and say we have the baby blues. I don’t know..I truly don’t.

I had of course heard of PD (what with the huge Brooke Shield, Tom Cruise controversy) but like an idiot never thought I would have one. Well I was wrong..really wrong. I could not handle the hormones raging through my body after Buzz was born. I did not even have a clue on how to handle them. I don’t know what people are talking about when they talk about PMS or when they say hormonal during pregnancy. I, to the best of my knowledge, don’t go through PMS and was not hormonal at all during my pregnancy. So suddenly after the hormone levels progressively increasing in my body for 9 months, the baby was out, and I was left with these elevated levels.

Thinking back, I think I went crazy for a while. Would cry at any odd thing..the neighbors baby crying would have me in tears..violence of TV would have me crying buckets..D getting back home late from work would find me holding sleeping Buzz and shaking with tears. I think staying alone for most part of the day (my parents had left when Buzz was a month old and D was at work), not meeting anyone, not talking to anyone had something to do with it. I knew all I needed to do was pick up the phone and could talk to my SIL or any of my friends, but I just could not seem to muster the energy or the inclination to do that. And it is such a vicious cycle. One feeding on the other. Another thing that factored in was the overwhelming feeling of responsibility..being responsible for such a tiny human being..and especially one you are head over heels in love with. The weight was too much on my emotionally unstable shoulders.

D, poor guy, was at a loss..anything and everything he did was taken incorrectly by me..or rather the emotional me..the rational me knew it was my issue, he was doing nothing wrong..but did that stop me from being a total wack??..Oh no..

I finally went and spoke to Dr. T about it. She listened and then asked questions: – Do I love Buzzu..Yes, Yes. – Do I get enough sleep..Yes, not in one continuous stretch, but I do sleep a lot. – Do you get upset when you have to get up every two hours to feed her..No, don’t mind that at all. – Do you do a lot of other household work..Hmm, no, I just do what I can or feel like, D takes care of the rest. – Do you have suicidal thoughts..No, never.

The verdict: Mild form of Baby Blues, not even classified as PD. Give it time..a few months..and things will start to get better.

Well if this was mild, I truly don’t want to know what moderate or severe form of PD is like. And I am glad that I am back to being me..comfortable in my own skin..comfortably nam.

Leaving with one of my favorite song when I have the blues, Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd