Charlie's six-month update

I had every intention of posting this last week, but my laptop has gone and lost it's mind and has decided to take my external drive along with it.  I'm still trying to figure out just what is going on and will probably resort to taking it in to the geeks at Best Buy but after the debacle that was the last time I took my laptop there, it's probably going to be some time before I'm back and running at 100%. Anyway, Mr. Charlie now measures 27 1/2" long and weighs just over twenty pounds and is wearing 12-18 month clothing.  He has yet to roll over on his own but Charlie's so close--plus he's got a lot of weight to hoist around.  Still no teeth, but he's showing all of the classic signs of teething--copious drooling, chewing on his fingers, and sucking on his bottom lip.  I peeked inside his mouth and it looks like his bottom canines are the ones giving him trouble (and keeping us up at night); I might have a vampire baby on my hands.  Aside from the occasional teething woes, Charlie continues to be a ridiculously easy-going baby--as long as his belly is full and his bottom is dry, he's a happy camper.

As you can see, Charlie's totally sitting on his own now and loves to watch the antics of his older brother and Sandy Cat from this new vertical vantage point.  Tummy time continues to go well and Charlie's started to push and scoot himself around a little bit on his belly in order to get to toys just out of his reach.  He's also started babbling a bit more and making different syllable sounds, but nothing delights Charlie quite so much as blowing raspberries at anyone and everyone.  Charlie's agenda over the next few weeks is to tackle some more solid foods (he's sampled pears and bananas so far) and to make the transition to sleeping in his crib full time, which means sharing a room with Sammy; I've actually managed to get both boys to nap simultaneously in the same room so I'm hoping the transition won't be too painful.

And just for fun, here's a video I took of Charlie tickling the ivories for the first time:

Guard your hearts this Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

I'm down with PPD (yeah you know me)

I've written this post a thousand times in my head, but when it comes time to put actual pen to (digital) paper,  I'm at a loss for words.  To put it bluntly, I've been miserable for a while now...and when I haven't been feeling so overwhelmingly sad I've been either angry or numb from crippling apathy.  There have been a few instances here and there when I've felt close to being happy, mostly when I was enjoying some one-on-one time with Sammy or Charlie, but for the most part, my emotions have been limited to sadness, anger or numbness.  I've felt like a bundle of raw, exposed nerves--the slightest thing could set me off into a raging, yelling mess one second and a sobbing, heaving wreck the next.  The guilt that I felt was overwhelming; I felt guilty because I wasn't able to care for Charlie to the best of my abilities because I was constantly having to police Sammy's toddler antics; then I would feel guilty for not being able to give Sammy my undivided attention any more because I was busy with the baby--no matter how I looked at it, it seemed that the entire set up was a lose-lose situation.  I joked to my friends that my only hope was that I was neglecting the boys equally--everyone laughed, but they didn't realize that behind my laughter I was quite convinced that I was causing my children some sort of emotional trauma due to my shortcomings as a mother.  I dreamt about running away from home on nearly a daily basis as I believed that everyone would be better off if I weren't there to ruin their happiness with my complete and utter lack thereof.

Two weeks ago I worked up the courage to mention these feelings to my OB/GYN; I cried as I told him about my daily struggles to feel anything other than melancholy and how difficult it was just to get out of bed each morning and face whatever the day might have to bring.  He listened to all I had to say and then told me what I had suspected all along--I was in the throes of postpartum depression.  He then gave me a hug and we discussed my treatment options and decided that a low dose of Zoloft (which is safe for breast feeding) was the way to go.  At this point I've been on the medication long enough that I'm beginning to see its effects on my day-to-day interactions with my family; my patience has been restored and I'm actually starting to enjoy things again.  I still have quite a way to go before I'm back to my old self but at least I now know that the light at the end of the tunnel isn't a train.