Teen Mom

I was just reading some trashy tabloid from Walmart, as I am wont to do in my downtime. On the cover, the headline screams of the excitement of the upcoming season of the MTV show, Teen Mom. It showed a happy, thin girl, holding infant twins, smiling, make-up perfect, not a hair astray. I will be the first to admit that this show is my guilty pleasure. I loved the first season of 16 and Pregnant, and I loved the original Teen Mom girls. It was kind of a cool show, a rollercoaster/trainwreck sort of thing. But I have a problem with one thing. The aftermath of this show. 

These girls, the Teen Moms, have become celebrities. Reality-TV idols. But I absolutely do not believe the show portrays reality. Yeah, the girls struggle, and end the episode with a teary confessional, "I didn't know how hard it would be." But I worry. I worry that teenage girls watch this show, and still do not get a feel for how hard it really is. I think they see a cute baby, the baby's father pledging to stay, to support their child, and they see the onset of adulthood (whether their own parents like it or not), and they think that "Hey, having a baby might be cool."

Reality check, ladies. It is not a great time. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter, and wouldn't trade her for anything, but this first month of parenting, is the hardest thing I have ever, ever even imagined. 48 hours of labor is certainly no joke, but even after that pain ends, you have weeks of post-baby recovery. I am pretty sure my stomach will never be taut and toned again. Stretch marks fade, but they don't disappear. And hey, if you thought your period was bad, try getting your period for a month. But its like, the worst period of your life. Your hair...it falls out. Like a middle aged-man. And that's just the physical wreckage.

Post-Partum Depression and Psychosis are very very real, and very very serious. But you can't just hide from the world and try and sleep it away. Because your baby needs to eat every two hours, and your baby needs to be held and sung to, and they will definitely need a few million diaper changes. Your baby needs YOU. Not your mom, not your dad, not your friends, but YOU. But don't think you'll be alone. You will have tons of visitors. Well, actually, the baby will have tons of visitors. At all hours. Even if you're tired and crabby and leaking milk like a broken cow.

I know that babies are cute. I for one, think my baby is fantastic. But its hard. It is so, so hard. And I know I sound like someone's mom (Oh wait, I am.), but I want people to think before they act. Babies and children and adulthood are wonderful, fantastic, amazing, beautiful things. But all in good time. Because once the baby is born, they don't go away. That little human that you made will always be a part of your life, even when you want to go to a party or want to be alone. Even when you want to be selfish. And that little human needs you, more than anything else. I just want teenage girls to think. Are you really, really ready to give up being a teenager? I don't think so. You're only young once, and it's an important part of life. Enjoy it. There will be time to have babies later. Enjoy your life. Go to a party, go to the small, make mistakes, learn from them. Just please, please, please don't have a baby before you are grown up and ready. You deserve more than that, and your beautiful, amazing future children do, too.

I am obviously a little hormonal right now. Haha, Rant over.

Intro

Hello out there, if anyone is even reading this. I'm Q. I am officially crazy. I have actually known this for awhile. I was informally diagnosed with borderline personality disorder at 16, and then formally at 18, after years and years of being out of control, but not knowing why. I had considered myself to be in some sort of self-induced remission. Until now, that is. 

I have a three week old daughter. And a one week old diagnosis. Post-partum depression and Post-partum psychosis. I suspected these things, sometime between my intense fits of rage, directed at my fiance, and the night I began hearing a box talk to me. And then there's the intermittent static. Like a radio between stations, playing in my head. 

My suspicion wasn't quite enough though. There's something so taboo about admitting that what should be the happiest, most fulfilling time in your adult life, is actually terrifying agony. I saw a psychiatrist, I talked to my midwife. They offer me medication, therapy, support groups, hospitalization. I have experienced all of these 'solutions,' just for a different dilemma. But there's something so different about it when you throw a baby into the mix. 

Medication? I take it, hesitantly. There's always something a little scary about starting on a psychotropic drug, that could either help fix the complete deafening insanity...or it could be just the thing to push you over the edge.

Therapy? I'll try it...in thirty days, when the soonest appointment opens up.

Support groups? Honestly, I do not even want to hear the worries of the other PPD/PPP moms. I don't need anymore crazy ideas than I've given myself.

Hospitalization? Well yeah, that sounds great. Kind of like vacation...until the thought sets in that maybe I am so crazy, they will just keep me in there. And what if I miss something? What if my baby misses me? I know I'd miss her. What if she smiles or laughs. I have to be there. I can't miss one thing. Because every little gas-induced pseudo-smile that she slips me as she drifts into her peaceful, worry-free baby sleep makes this worthwhile. If I don't get to see her smiles, is there even a point?

So really, every option is shit. I can't even be alone with my baby. My parents, my fiance, my friends safeguard her like I'm the enemy. I curse them in my mind, "Who are they, to act like I can't care for my own daughter? Why should they treat me like I'm the bad guy?"  

and that's when I remember, I can't. And I am.