The Ballad of Dust Bunny

So, somewhere on Facebook I saw that May 16 was Mental Health Blog Day. I, of course, believe in complying with these very important internet imperatives.

No, I don’t really. But parenting and PPD have been on my mind lately, probably because Mother’s Day was last weekend. I had a lovely day. Our children made me such incredibly thoughtful gifts—they overwhelmed me. I couldn’t help thinking how things had changed since my first Mother’s Day.

I wrestled with PPD for nearly a year after S. joined our family. Then, just as I felt better, I became very ill with thyroiditis and the resulting hypothyroidism. Between the two illnesses, I spent many days on the sofa while S. was small.

So, with mothering and mental health (health!) on my mind, I thought I’d post one of my attempts to write about those days. If this sounds familiar, please know that it doesn’t have to be this way. Tell someone, reach out, get help, and know that it can and will pass! Tell your family, tell a friend, tell your healthcare provider, or check out this list of resources--http://twloha.com/find-help

I promise I'm working on an uplifting blog for next time!

The Ballad of Dust Bunny

From my angle, I spy

A compatriot

Dwelling in the corner

Beside the tv, under the chair

Just this side

Of the shelf

A shadow of more substance

Less linearity

Than the other shadows

In a day or so

He seems a little heavier

A little more rounded

From my angle, I suppose

Does he mutter

To himself

Does it cross his mind

To matter?

Does he think he should

Have one foot to drag

In front of another

Does he sigh for

A to-do list to

Wrap up in at night?

Would he give his form

Weight

--if he could--

To anchor himself

For motion, for change

So he might matter?

I change angles,

My side grown numb

 

II

A humid comforter

Hovers over

Monotonous green

From our window

We watch

The same plants

Growing the same leaves

Over and over

In weeks

Between clippings

He’s heftier now

And I …

Diffuse

In long hours

Interrupted by

Brief functioning

A meal to be had

Dirty laundry

Waded through

Sleep sought

And avoided

Guilt consumed

And abandoned

Another day

Another destiny

III

I watch

My daughter bustling

She whips up a lunch

Feeds bears and monkeys

With equal ease

Leaps block towers

In single bounds

Puts hordes to bed

And wakes them

Two seconds after

She even brushes

My fellow-sufferer

In her urgent reaching

For a miscreant toy

What will she do

With the next five minutes?

The constant

Ever-so-slight

Pucker

Between her eyebrows

Punctuated by

Disguised, quick

Shoulder glances

My indictment

At least

With a ball of fluff

She knows

To ask nothing