The whole is greater than the sum of the parts

When the storm clouds of post-partum depression started gathering, a confluence of events conspired to push me over the edge: Boychen reacted badly to his first round of immunizations and there was much crankiness; my milk supply seemed to drop and it's possible he was hungry; the weather took a turn for the cold and grey; we hit the height of the six-to-eight week night colic; and perhaps most importantly R returned to work full-time after an extended period of paternity leave, part-time paternity leave, and Christmas and New Years holidays; then one week after he returned to work, he spent three weeks at a course in Zurich. I would say it was a post-partum perfect storm scenario except that I've sort of vowed never to refer to a confluence of events as a perfect storm scenario. Still. It all sort of went wrong at the same time and once the ball of depression started rolling down that hill it excelerated with alarming alacrity.


By the same token, miraculously, when things started looking up, things started looking up at the same time: thanks to a series of herbal suppliments the milk supply is back up and Boychen seems more content; the weather has been delightful for weeks, these almost kitchy post-card picture days; the Deroxat (Paxil) is clearly doing its job; and Boychen, at just over three months old, has turned the corner from newborn to baby. Those first three months, when the baby is disorganized and struggling to adjust to life on earth, are over and things really have gotten better. Boychen naps. In the house. Without touching my body. He falls asleep fairly easily at night. He's much happier during his waking periods; he can clumsily grasp soft toys and shove them in the general direction of his face. He can be awake on my knee or in his bouncy chair for 30 or 40 minutes without fussing. This is approaching a miracle. It's been a wonder.

I'm enjoying my baby. He's a delight. Imagine that. He's a positive delight.