Optimism

None of us is perfect. I think we have that established, but it doesn't stop most of us from expecting perfection from ourselves and others. I have been so far from perfect lately, I started to wonder if I had postpartum depression. For a couple of days, I meant to get online and find out how to manage the baby blues, but I never got a chance. I was completely overwhelmed by getting from one task to the next while trying to enjoy the last week of summer. Last night after the kids were in bed, Scott was at a meeting. Ptolemy was awake, so I reached over to my nightstand and flipped open the Ensign to read. It opened to an article titled, "Managing Postpartum Depression." There was all the information I needed! It was a confirmation that the Lord is with us in our trials and is aware of our needs. I started thinking about how many other tender mercies I had experienced in my day. Earlier, Sarah called to have my kids over as I was trying to arrange babysitting for my visiting teaching lunch. A neighbor offered to bring Xanthe home from ballet just as I was wondering how I was going to be in two places at once. Scott came home with Ruby's school shopping all done. Later, Golda was craving an Oreo shake, and I felt guilty because I couldn't swing that with 6 kids, and it seemed like the squeakier wheels were getting all the grease. Just then, Dad called and said he wanted to bring us some "malted milks" and see how Ruby was recovering from her root canal. Golda got her Oreo shake.

As I read the postpartum depression article, I recognized myself..."feeling a sense of failure, having difficulty focusing or concentrating, struggling for perfection, feeling as though you are losing your mind, feeling overwhelmed." And on top of that, feeling guilty and inadequate about all the help that has already been rendered. This is my life, I chose it, I should be able to handle it. People have said, "Well, you shouldn't try to do so much." As if it's my fault that I'm overwhelmed. As if I could choose to stop doing laundry, grocery shopping and violin repairs, and tell two of the girls they can't take dance classes anymore. As if that would solve it. I'm not "trying to do so much." I'm trying to maintain the lifestyle that I feel will best serve my children, including educating them in the arts and feeding and clothing them. It's not supposed to be easy, and telling me I'm doing it wrong isn't helpful. Dropping out of everything and staying home in my sweats would make me suicidal. I like my life and all the stuff that it's comprised of. Soon I'll feel the strength to be on top of the game again. The article said, "there is hope for normal functioning while experiencing feelings of depression." Good to know! My Nana just had surgery for skin cancer and a skin graft on her nose. When I visited her on Monday, she had a big bandage across her bruised face. I asked her how she was feeling, and she said in her cheerful voice, "Well, I'm just...planning on getting better!"

So this is a chapter in my summer, maybe one to be mitigated when school starts. For now, through the intensity of this time, I'm thankful to be able to enjoy so many fun and joyful moments, and to keep my head above water so I can see the beauty. If you see me at a recital with no shoes on and three-week-old nail polish chipping off my toes, (Hi Michelle!), just know that I'll have it all together soon!