Last night Mr. A mentioned that he has noticed that Master X is not smiling as much as normal. Mr. A was referring to Master X’s signature, coy and wide smile, that stretches across his tiny face, crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. I had also noticed that his smile had been absent this week, and was suspicious that the sudden conclusion to our breastfeeding journey had been the cause. The fact that Mr. A noticed the same change after a week away from us, heightened my concern.
Master X had stopped smiling.
This was a case for reliable, trustworthy and ever so available, Doctor Google. ‘Why is my baby not smiling; baby suddenly not smiling’ and consequently, ‘Is my baby depressed; mother and baby depression.’
I concluded that Master X was depressed, and immediately felt guilt. Our little joyous, happy, carefree (coy, cheeky) man was depressed and it was all my fault.
This realisation on top of the self-deprecating thoughts of how unattractive my child-bearing body has become, additional to the fact that I would have to drive today because Mr. A was spending the night with Master X so that I could have some uninterrupted sleep, made for an anxious nightfall.
This morning however (after a nine hour blissful sleep thanks to independent bedding arrangements, and half of a sleeping pill), Mr. A greeted me with ‘Oh and Master X is smiling again this morning. And laughing. A lot’.
I think there is something to be said for overreactive imaginations, and that is that they are unnecessarily damaging.
If you or someone you know is experiencing thoughts of suicide please contact Lifeline immediately 13 11 14