Dear Readers, though life with an infant still feels like someone stuffed my head with cotton and dipped my life in cold honey, it's somehow not as bad as I remember. It's probably all the things: living in a small town where people help each other out a lot, living closer to my parents (my mother folded my laundry and took my children outside while I napped, this weekend), finally having a reasonable income (postdoc salaries for four people are an exercise in frugality), and... finally feeling like I know what I'm doing. Dr. S reminded me that we never let Bug cry as a baby without picking him up. At this moment, Sweetpea is crying, and in five minutes I will pick her up and nurse her. But in the meanwhile, she'll be fine. I feel much less trapped than I did with either of the boys. The weather her is much warmer, of course, which helps; but also I feel like I can see when it will get better.
(Also, I suppose the first month was so dreadful that anything seems like an improvement. I fell asleep yesterday - for a nap! - without pharmaceutical assistance for the first time in nine weeks! I am finally not taking any more controlled substances! Pursuant to which, I did try to see a psychiatrist, but there is only ONE in town who doesn't work for the [dreadful] community services board, and his voicemail was full and he was out of town. Meanwhile, I seem to have sorted out my mental health myself, so bah, whatever.)
The snow has melted! My flowers are sprouting! I'm about to dig up a hillside and plant an enormous flower bed! (This is only somewhat unreasonably ambitious. The co-op gardening plans, which start with "dig up 100 sf peony bed", are maybe fairly unreasonably ambitious. But we did it last year!)
And so onwards.