Postpartum times are tough. Mine were. And oh, I hate the words ‘postpartum depression,’ and I hate thinking that I was one in hundreds of thousands who suffered from it. On the one hand, the worry and the sadness felt so natural that I didn’t think it needed to be called anything else. On the other, the worry and the sadness felt so intense that I didn’t want to think it was normal.
“Do you think you had PPD?” Laura asked in a tone that assumed that I hadn’t. This was the other day, at least 15 months too late. But hey now, I won’t get into it all.
Right now I have a problem. Surely it bloomed from a postpartum seed — an estrogen pip, I’d expect — but still, still! It is with me still: an overwhelming fear that Bridget will be attacked a dog, large or small.
(Pause for laughter?)
I am serious. I am so serious. I just received an email from my soon-to-be-landlord that read: “Sorry about the confusion with the dog downstairs. I didn't realize that you had concerns about dogs. It's a friendly little puppy so I'm sure it's all good.” I am in tears.
This is completely debilitating. Living in fear — wow, I don’t know how people do it. Just recently I asked my friend Cam to arrive at a housewarming party before Bridget and I to be sure there wasn’t a dog. If there had been, I would not have gone. Why? Because constantly excusing yourself is humiliating. “I know, your dog does seem nice, but I would just rather she didn’t pet her. I know, it’s silly.”
Ugh, it is so terrible. The condescension: “don’t worry”; the stat: “my dog has never bitten”; and the “my dog won’t bite, I promise.” I will tell you right now, none of them work. We are talking about a phobia here, people. Some moms would not feel comfortable with their child flying in a plane or holding a snake — for me, it’s a dog.
However, I am not totally crazy. First, just like planes and snakes, dogs have been known to cause humans harm. Second, new mothers come equipped with the ‘fight or flight’ response for this very reason = give me a break, I’m doing my job.
But see, this is also a problem. I need help, I want help, but I don’t think viewing pictures of dogs while ingesting sugary concoctions is going to cut it. I need real proof that dogs don’t bite kids and I don’t know if I will find it.
So I guess instead I need everyone’s patience and understanding. I also need everyone to know: I had postpartum depression and I have a phobia.
(Yikes, serious. Here’s a joke: Q: How do you make a dog drink? A. Put it in a blender.)
March 2008.
March 2008.
