The thing that nobody tells you about.

The Baby Blues.

Or rather, the beginning of post-partum depression.

I swear I had it.

One day we were ogling over our sweet new baby boy as nurses swept him in and out of our hospital room, doing pretty much everything in their power to take care of my every need, while catering to my new baby every second, and the next they are shoving him in to our hands and telling Todd "bring the car around!" and frantically pushing my wheelchair out the front door, patting me on the behind saying "good luck!" like they knew I was being set up for failure.

We got home from the hospital at about 10:00pm on Super Bowl Sunday. Dad and Mom had picked up Whinnie (she was staying at their house), grabbed a big pizza, and settled in at our house to wait for us to bring Nick home for our first night together as a family, on our own.

We pulled on to our street, carefully unhooked all of the seat belt straps that were holding our 6 pound baby in place, covered him with 12 blankets, and brought him inside.

And I started crying.

At the time I chalked it up to exhaustion, and the fact that I felt bad that Todd and my dad had missed the Super Bowl.

But for the next two weeks, the tears never stopped.

I spent hours each day, holding Nick, wondering to myself "what the hell have we gotten ourselves in to?!" I missed my OB doctor. I missed the nurses at the hospital. I felt weird and out of place. I cried because I genuinely thought my life was so different, that I had no idea what to do with myself.

Nick didn't make much of a peep. He slept most of the time. After 3 hours, I would wake him up, take off my shirt, and try to shove my boob in his mouth. He'd attempt to eat, fall back asleep, and we'd repeat again 3 hours later. I hated breastfeeding. I would cry while feeding him. It didn't hurt. I was producing a ton of milk. I was leaking through most of my shirts, and going through plenty of breast pads. But I hated breastfeeding. I couldn't find the "bond" that I had read so much about. I felt like a terrible mom.

I cried because the thought of Nick getting bigger made me sad. I cried because he wasn't gaining enough weight. I cried about breastfeeding some more. I cried because my incision was sore. I cried because the thought of going out in public gave me anxiety. I cried because I worried about something happening to my baby. I cried when family members came over. I cried when people said "oooh, he's sooo tiny!". I cried when people said "aww, you look tired". I cried because I WAS tired. I cried during commercials. I cried during the Jersey Shore. I cried every time I ate. I cried every time Todd hugged me and tried to figure out what was wrong. I cried every time my mom tried to offer her advice or tell me things would get better. I cried when I decided I wanted to try giving Nick a pacifier. I cried when I realized he didn't have any clothes that fit. I cried and cried and cried and cried.

When Nick was about 2 and a half weeks old, Todd convinced me to take a walk one evening. It was decently warm outside, so I agreed. We bundled Nick up and hauled out our huge Eddie Bauer travel system. We belted Nick in to his car seat, which up until that point, he had only actually been in for a car trip twice -- once to the pediatrician (I cried during that trip) and once to Target (I cried hysterically during that trip). As we pushed him around the neighborhood, a car pulled up along side of us. One of our neighbors (who I see walking his dog when I take out Whinnie) said "is this the new baby?!" as if we were pushing someone else's child around the neighborhood. His wife was in the passenger seat. She had worn the badge of motherhood three times -- once with their first son, and the second time with their twin boys. I suppose she could tell I'd been having a hard time...the tear stains on my cheeks, and the huge dark circles under my eyes were very telling. She looked at me and said "how are you doing?" to which I said with a lump in my throat "it's hard". She said "yes. you will cry. a lot. and then one day, you'll wake up, and you'll feel normal again."

I so wanted to believe her. I kept telling myself each morning "this is the day I'll feel like me again". And every day, I'd push through, thinking I had made it, before everything came crashing down in the afternoon. And then I'd cry again.

And I could never really figure out WHY I was crying. I knew everything made me cry, but I didn't know why. I was telling my best friend Lori about my constant tears and the anxiety I had about going out in public. I told her "I feel like everyone can tell I'm different." She said "it's like when you have on an outfit that you don't feel confident in...and you go out in public and feel like everyone is looking at you wondering why you're wearing that outfit...yet nobody is really looking at you at all."

That's exactly how I felt. Like everyone was judging me...wondering why I had a baby, and how the hell I'd be able to care for him. Thinking that I looked so uncomfortable in my own skin. When in reality, the only reason people were looking at me was because a)I had huge dark bags under my eyes, and b)they wanted to see the new baby I was pushing around in the stroller.

Todd had returned to work the day after we got home from the hospital, so I told myself that I would do all of the night time feedings so that he could get some sleep. Not to mention I was the one with the boobs, so it sort of made sense. But I would get up to feed Nick, turn the TV on, get the boppy all situated, yank off my shirt, and cry as Nick screamed because neither of us could get the hang of breastfeeding.

I took Nick to the pediatrician every week during the first month of his life. At about 4 weeks old, I sat in the pediatrician's office and cried. They weighed Nick, and he was not gaining much weight. Nor was his jaundice disappearing. I told the doctor how I felt like such a bad mom -- I hated breastfeeding. The doctor assured me that I was not a bad mother, and recommended that maybe it was a good idea to supplement formula because Nick just wasn't catching on to the breastfeeding.

I had gone back and forth about giving up breastfeeding and switching to the bottle for quite a few days, but having the doctors approval, I instantly felt a small weight lift off my shoulders. Giving Nick a bottle was liberating. I could give him one in public...anywhere...and not be embarrassed. I pumped for a while, alternating breast milk with formula bottles, but in the end, I hated pumping as much as I hated breastfeeding. Sitting with the pump stuck to my chest, feeling like a cow being milked, was just as difficult for me as the breastfeeding itself. So we quickly became a formula only household.

And just as quickly as we switched to formula, my body switched off the tears. I felt like me again. I loved Nick from the minute he was born, but as the tears came to a halt, I started to really like this baby we had been given. I felt like me...a more complete, more whole, me.

When I went to my OB for my 4 week post cesarean check-up (which was right around the same time we switched to the bottle), I told her how I had spent the first few weeks in non-stop tears. And before I could even finish telling her about what I went through, she stopped me and said "why in the world didn't you call me?!" I told her "because everything from the hospital said 'if you are still experiencing these feelings after 6 weeks, call your doctor'" -- you know what she said? "Why on earth would you want to feel like that for 6 weeks, while trying to take care of a brand new baby that you know nothing about?!" That's when it hit me -- nobody I knew had gone through this...nobody had said a word about these so called 'baby blues' -- which is why I had no idea how to cope with it for those few weeks. Looking back now, I should have called her the minute I got home and fell apart.

But now I feel stronger because of it all. Because of the lows I hit, the highs are even better. I went from going through the motions with Nick because I knew I had to, to trying to spend every second of every day with him...because I want to.

I have yet to talk to another new mommy that experienced what I went through. All the other new moms I've talked to seem to have had an easier first few weeks. They were in love with motherhood from the start. They didn't have to work up to it. But then again, I can't be 100% sure they didn't experience something similar...because nobody really talks about it. I know from experience...because maybe if somebody had really told me how hard it would be -- had really sat me down and said "you might cry ALL. THE. TIME. -- then maybe I would have been able to cope a bit better, knowing that, in fact, I was normal. That's why I'm putting it out there. So that maybe another new mommy somewhere will say "why am I crying so much, without having any idea why, or how to make myself stop?" and then read this post and realize they are not alone. And that it will get better.

Do I still cry? All the time. I still get choked up dropping Nick off at daycare. I shed a few tears when I see a Pampers commercial. And I outright bawl when I hear Darius Rucker's "It Won't Be Like This For Long" on the radio. (I actually just started crying thinking about the song). But now I know where the tears are coming from when they do come. Their coming from that spot in my heart that was so empty, (albeit without my knowledge) until Nick arrived and filled it up. And now? I love those tears.