I hadn’t given a lot of thought to Mother’s Day leading up to it this year, despite being a new mom. It’s just so weird to me that this holiday applies to me now in this way. I know I’m a mom, but sometimes little things remind me of it when I least expect it. Like when Lucas is nursing and nestles his feet into my belly, or when he sees my face and lights right up.

I told a friend earlier that it’s especially weird because as adults, we don’t remember the days when our mothers were everything we needed all in one package. Don’t get me wrong, the dads do a lot too – Mark has saved my sanity more than a couple times and Lucas adores him! But he still has moments where he just needs me to snuggle him or sing to him, and I’m his sole source of nutrition. It’s a huge responsibility, but an even bigger privilege.

For Mother’s Day, Mark and I went to visit his mom and after I dropped the boys off there, I was sent for an hour-long massage. It was fantastic and surprisingly set to a 90s playlist! If you know me at all, you know that the music from the late 90s/early 00s would be infinitely more relaxing to me than any other kind of music they could play.

After that, I had a nice long nap while nursing Lucas, then we had some supper (Chinese food!) and just spent the rest of the time relaxing. I got some cleaning done once we were back at the apartment (at my own request, despite Mark telling me to take it easy) and everything felt so good.

I’ve been dealing with a lot lately. Everything has caught up with me over the last three months – the end of pregnancy was not easy, my induction was long and complicated, childbirth was fairly traumatic for me (Lucas was fine, but I was in an awful state!), and I’ve had a bit of family drama since. The combination of all of this and sleep deprivation has triggered my anxiety 10x worse than normal, and brought back some of my OCD behaviours.

I knew I needed to see my doctor about it when I realized that I spent a half hour scrubbing my face because my anxiety made it feel like it wouldn’t come clean. Sure, the obsession and fixation with cleanliness has the apartment looking great, but it’s not good for the brain or the soul.

My doctor has decided to double my dose of Wellbutrin (I’m on that as well as Cipralex) to see if that starts to help, and I’m back to seeing my psychologist regularly to help sort out my thoughts and feelings. I hate that my brain is going through all of this, but I’m lucky to have an awesome team of friends, family, doctors, and mental health professionals to help me beyond just the medication.

On top of that, Lucas makes it better. Sure, I get frustrated when he’s upset and I cannot figure out how to soothe him, but then the storm breaks and his eyes light up and he gives me this enormous toothy grin and I know I can handle it for another day.

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