Wifezilla aka The Baby Blues

Ever see the show Bridezillas? You know, where those unbelievably obnoxious women act like psychopaths and treat everyone around them as if they were the biggest pieces of scum garbage to ever walk this Earth? The types of women who make you want to jump through your television and slap the ever loving shit out of them for acting so ridiculous. They are getting married for crying out loud. Isn't this supposed to be one of the absolute HAPPIEST days of their lives? Judging from their actions, you'd never know, right? Fabricated for television or not, these women make you (or at least me) sick.

By this point you are wondering, why the hell is she going on and on about that dumb tv show. Who cares? Well, let me explain.

Those women who I so horrendously described... yea. Lately, they are me. Times a thousand. Just ask my poor husband (or really anyone) who has been forced to put up with me and all of my crap for the past 5 or so weeks. Please allow me to introduce you to...DUN DUN DUN...Wifezilla.

By definition: 

Wifezilla- adjective

Term used to describe an over tired, over stressed, over reactive, over IT, woman who takes out every single ounce of her daily thoughts, issues, emotions, etc, on that poor soul labeled as her husband. 

Alright. Who are we kidding here?

What Wifezilla really refers to is a raging hormonal bitch who has sudden urges to lash out, spew verbal diarrhea, and/or throw random crap {at her husband} because......well, who the hell really even knows why? Does she even know? (we'll answer this later)

Now do we see the resemblance between wifezilla and bridezilla? One major difference. Wifezilla is not fabricated. She really exists. And in this household. INSERT- wife hanging head in mortified shame.

You see. I've always had a tinge of this, we'll call syndrome. I can be pissy, whiny, grumpy, annoyed, and down right ugly if the mood strikes. Admit it ladies. At one point or another, you have all taken on some shape or form of the Wifezilla syndrome. Maybe not to the extreme of what's been described, but we've all somewhat been there, right? [Please don't tell me if your answer is no. I'm already embarrassed enough.] Anyway, for me, it's always been there. But NOTHING like this.

Prepare to take out your tiny violins and let the sob story begin...

Let's rewind back to early September. I was 40 weeks pregnant and pretty over it. Tired. Anxious. Excited. Full of wonder. And the list goes on. I was getting very stressed out because Noelle didn't look like she was going to make her grand entrance naturally as I had anticipated, and all of my dreams of an ideal (and completely unrealistic) labor and delivery were looking pretty dim. I was an absolute loon with all of ridiculous things I was doing to try to manually induce labor. From eating chocolate cake and spicy foods to bouncing on a ball for hours and taking daily 4 mile walks. You name it, I tried it all. Yet, in the midst of all this craziness, I had a lot of support and understanding from my husband Nick. He would give me nightly back and neck massages, get me whatever I needed (since it was not easy for me to get up, waddle, sit...err...collapse), and really tried to keep me thinking positively that I would have the experience that I was longing for. He was amazing.

Then it happened. The moment we were waiting for. The birth of our gorgeous baby girl.

Well, I won't get into all of the details from my-not so wonderful-labor, delivery, and hospital experience. That is for another post (or 12. Seriously, it will probably take that many to describe how horrid it was). Let's just say my awful experience did not meet any of my expectations (which I obviously should have never set in the first place) and I was absolutely miserable. I mean- m.i.s.e.r.a.b.l.e.

I went 4 days in the hospital operating on one actual meal of food (bowls of ice chips do not count), sleeping a total of MAYBE 6-8 hours, being in the most gut wrenching pain of my life (from the c-section), sobbing uncontrollably, and having to rely on Nick for pretty much everything-including taking full care of our newborn baby. If you know me at all, you know that I do not operate that way. I despise having to rely on other people (my husband included) to cart me around and do everything for me. I need to be in control of myself and my environment. That way, when my astronomically high expectations aren't met, the only person that I can be mad at is myself. Well, now my independence and ability to care for my baby had been taken away. So that, mixed with everything mentioned above, left me feeling beyond guilty, frustrated, and angry. Yea... not the best combination. And definitely not the ideal situation for my overly tired husband. 

So once Noelle was in the room with us, and I wasn't able to perform any of my motherly duties the way I had hoped (having to stop breastfeeding, not being able to get out of bed to change her diaper or hold her), I was really not the nicest or easiest person to deal with. After all of that, I would say I had a pretty good excuse. Let's just say that nothing he did was right. He wasn't doing anything with the baby the "right" way (or the way that I would have been doing it). He wasn't moving fast enough for me. He wasn't staying awake with me. He didn't know the pain that I was in. He didn't see how upset I was about feeling like an inadequate mother. He just didn't understand. Or maybe he did. Maybe everything that he was doing was perfectly okay. I just didn't see it that way. AT. ALL.

You would think that after being able to come home with our new beautiful baby girl and having the help of my parents that I would get some sleep, eat some food, and snap the hell out of this funk. You know, go back to normal. Well I did, for about a day. Then Noelle ended up back in the hospital with extreme dehydration which I was completely (still kinda am) blaming myself for. Now I had another night of sobbing, no sleep, no eating, still in agonizing pain, and now all of those feelings that I mentioned before were tripled. Anything Nick tried to do to help, etc, was taken as an insult and frustrated the living crap out of me. My thoughts at the time... I am a crappy mother and he is a crappy everything. Ugh. Seriously, can't the man do a damn thing right? 

I had reached my absolute breaking point, and we were in desperate need of a do over button. 

No matter how crazy it sounds, I know that it was completely normal to feel the way that I did. I have done enough Google searches, read enough articles, blogs, and baby books to know that it is common to suffer from what is known as the "baby blues." Taking out everything on the husband, feeling inadequate as a mother, etc. All typical symptoms lasting for a few days to a week. So why the hell do I still feel this way?

I am still frustrated. Still tired. Still angry. But, more importantly, still taking everything (and I do mean ev-er-y-thing) out on Nick. He still can't do anything right. Still not moving fast enough for me. Still not staying awake with me. Still offering (or questioning) to help and frustrating the hell out of me. And really, for no reason whatsoever. I mean, I have my independence back. I am able to breastfeed successfully with my child just like I wanted. Noelle is a pretty good baby and is healthy. We aren't going into the poorhouse because we had a baby (which was among some of my other crazy thoughts). So what the hell is my problem? I'm pretty sure that sleep deprivation combined with an inability to exercise or do much else is playing a huge role here... but come on.  

Baby blues to the extreme? More than likely. I am just tired of feeling like an out of control psychopath who treats her husband like a giant turd 90% of the time. An utterly atrocious wifezilla. And lord knows he is tired of me and my "episodes." Thank goodness he is pretty patient and completely tolerant of this insane behavior, or we would be in serious trouble. 

Hey, I'm not looking for psychological therapy here, so please don't offer any. Do I really need it? Don't answer that. Really, all I want to know is that I am not alone here. That there are some other post partum wifezillas out there and that this syndrome will eventually and hopefully go away (on it's own) soon. I just want to feel like myself and cuddle with {not hate on} my poor hubby who I really do love (despite what you've just read) again. 

Thanks for lending an ear {more like an eye} and not jumping through your computer to slap the everloving shit out of me. Although that's probably just what I need.