My love,

Hang in there with me. These days are hard—so hard. We work tirelessly every day to raise our four kids under five. We're at the stage of life with little ones where no matter how hard I try to look presentable, get out the door on time or keep everyone's schedules straight, I somehow manage to feel like I've dropped the ball on something. It always feels like chaos.

I know my hair is a mess, the state of the house isn't much better. Sometimes I haven't showered in three days, and don't get me started on the last time the house was vacuumed. I walk barefoot and cringe, then put shoes on so I can ignore the floors for one more day.


Most of the time I'm grumpy because young kids require a lot. A lot of attention, a lot of direction and a lot of hand-holding (despite our best efforts to help them learn to do for themselves). I'm hormonal, resentful burnt out, and experiencing some bouts of depression. Most days I feel like I don't like you (or anyone, really.)

And yet, despite being angry one minute and fine the next, I need you more than ever. My harsh words are simultaneously meant to sting and act as a cry for help. I'm fearful that I'll never get back my old life, let alone my old body. I often don't feel like myself. While I'm physically feeding this new human (that happens to be hungry every three hours), I'm battling these hormones that have me gazing at our new baby in wonderment one minute and crumbling to pieces the next.

I long to reconnect with you again. I long to put that stellar dress and heels back on. But I feel like leaky breasts are probably the least sexy thing, right?

These days, I choose sleep over date night. I choose a "night in" over a fun time with friends. I obsess over feeding schedules. I constantly Google my fears. I cry over the crib. I'm mourning the loss of my old life and trying to figure out this new one. This new beautiful chaos that we created together.

I don't feel like the old me and that's scary, but I know there is hope that things will get better. As it gets better it will be different. We're evolving together as a unit that created an entirely new life. Our old life a thing of the past.

I just ask that you love me until I'm "me" again.

Don't stop.

I'm trying to remember that these challenges are not forever. The late nights up with a newborn won't be forever. The hormones will resettle, and I won't be so weepy all the time. My breastfeeding journey will eventually come to an end. Our children will grow, become more self-sufficient and eventually need us less and less.

I know I will start to feel like a whole person again. I may even feel like exercising again. Just hang in there with me. Hug me when I'm crying for no reason. Bring water while I'm breastfeeding. Tell me I'm beautiful as I am (even with my new flabby stomach).

Love me through my postpartum phase of mourning and depression when it rears its ugly head. Love me through it all because that's why we fell in love in the first place. Love me until I'm me again because even if I don't feel it now or show it right now, I'm still in there.

I wouldn't want to do life with anyone else except you.

Love,

Your postpartum wife

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