There comes a time when I have to seriously consider whom this blog is intended to benefit. Is it for Maya, so she can look back? Is it for family and friends? Or, just maybe, is it for me?

(Typing with one hand is painfully slow.)

One of the things I’ve loved most about blogging is the ability to be straight out honest. But, who am I kidding? Friends and family want to see the happy, fluffy moments…smiles, laughter (I didn’t get to say, but Maya laughed for the first time this past week), happiness. They don’t come here for me to process my feelings about being a single mom…how utterly terrifying it can be.

So, screw them all. I need to write for me. Today has been a day when I seriously question how/if I am going to make it.

Here I am, holding a baby who MUST be held in one arm, and typing with the opposite hand… Okay…I set her down, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll sleep for more than 2 minutes. Maybe? Please? She needs it. *I* need it.

I felt so proud of myself for how well I planned for this baby…I set money aside for time off. I paid the mortgage and HOA dues in advance so I wouldn’t owe during the first month. But the truth is, a month wasn’t anywhere near enough. November arrived, and I found myself needing to work, but clueless about how to manage that AND take care of a baby. To anyone who hasn’t had kids, or to *fathers* who’ve never been the primary care-giver, managing a baby sounds simple. I mean, how hard could it be to stay home and take care of a baby? *sniff* Whatever. Before Maya’s arrival, I felt mostly sure that I’d be able to work from home, so I could spend time with this precious little girl. Again: whatever.

Trying to work from home has been horrible. Granted, in the past few days, I’ve accomplished more than I would have thought possible. But then there’s a day like today. I’ve done nothing. Absolutely nothing. Oh, other than crying, that is. (So, of course, now my contacts are pretty gritty too, so even if I get the time to work, can I SEE to do it?) So, back to crying. Why crying? I honestly am not sure where this month’s mortgage is coming from. Now, I doubt Washingtom Mutual (or ditech, for that matter) will kick me out of my home for one late and/or missed payment. But for *&^%’s sake, I’ve gotten my credit clean. Have I worked this hard just to let everything fall apart again? Even the dispute with Gateway/Citibank has FINALLY been cleared after 2 years of fighting with them! Anyway…

Where was I anyway? Am I really going to publish this, or maybe should I just save it as an invisible draft instead of venting my fears to the world? Beats me.

So, today has been the day I think I’ve feared all along. I’ve been afraid of that spectre called “Post-Partum Depression.” You see, I’ve dealt with Mr. D before, and the statistics have said that anyone who’s been through it is more prone to it after having a child. But I’ve been spared! I’ve been perky, happy, balanced…until today. Today, I feel like everything has kind of fallen apart, and all I can seem to do is cry, and hold Maya as she cries. I talked to a friend earlier today — one of those annoying sorts who likes to find the worst-case scenario in everything. I got a big dose of “I told you so” from him. I told you what? That I had no business having a child? That I should have given her up for adoption? That I should have had an abortion in the first place? Don’t know…but “I told you so” for sure that I just wouldn’t be able to hack it. Why do I listen to these things? He calls it a reality check. I call it accepting failure before even trying.

Whatever the case, since then, all I can think about is whether I should have made different choices. Do I have a right to raise my own daughter? Should I have terminated this pregnancy? It doesn’t really matter, really — either choice — adoption or abortion, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I’ve never really come to a place where I’ve felt like killing myself. Never, even in the deepest pits of depression back in the mid-nineties. But thinking about giving up this little girl, I would have to die. Then, when I think about that idea, all I can do is cry more, which of course makes it difficult (impossible) for me to get any more work done. This is pathetic.

Okay, enough self-indulgence for now. I have a baby who appears to be waking up. (yippie. Five minutes of sleep for her. She NEEDS a nap, and I have no idea why she won’t sleep!) Whether I feel up for it or not, I’m back “on.” And if she decides to doze again, there are many other things to do besides sit here and spew out some disorganized thoughts which would scare the life out of those aforementioned friends and family. Guess I could clean the kitchen? Do laundry? *gasp* work?

*sigh*

It’s just today, and I have to remember that. Other days will be easier and better.