My son is in Pre-K. He is almost 5. Where did the time go?
I suffered from postpartum depression for a year and a half after his birth. I essentially missed out on the first 2 years of his life. They were spent with me crying, worrying, scared, petrified, paranoid, anxious, and depressed.
Looking back, I guess my glasses are now rose colored. I look at pictures from when he was a teeny tiny 4-pounder and now realize how adorable he was. And wish I could’ve appreciated him more. (And wish he would’ve cuddled more apart from sickness and sleep.) And wish I could go back in time and love him the way I ought without PPD or mental illness getting in my way.
This time next year, he’ll be out of daycare in Kindergarten. I think I’ll be beside myself. Heaven knows what I will do. Other than be grateful.