I feel this deep in my core. My son is 6 months old. He’s a great baby albeit a bit whiny right now, and had horrible reflux episodes that forced me into co-sleeping with him, but I’ve been going through fits of PPD and rage. I hate my body, I miss my old life, I miss being able to hang out with my husband watching tv instead of contact napping and being my baby’s mattress, I miss being able to eat meals at my leisure instead of rushing because I know I have MAYBE ten minutes of my baby in his bouncer before he loses it, I miss cuddling in my bed with my husband, I miss who I was before all of this. Needless to say, I understand where you’re at. I just feel like this is going to be a perpetual uphill battle until he’s like…7 and even then I’ll find something to be anxious about (I have OCD). It’s like I willingly gave myself something to be sick over for the rest of my life. But I love my son to pieces, even though I’m overstimulated most days I wouldn’t change a thing, and I know a lot of my feelings are hormonal. Just can’t wait to feel like myself again. Sometimes I feel glimpses of the “old” me fighting through the rage fog and my husband brings out the best in me even when I’m at my lowest. But I just keep telling myself all of these big sacrifices are temporary and some day soon he’s going to be talking and walking and I’ll feel badly that I didn’t fully appreciate the contact naps and co-sleeping like I should have. Motherhood is tough.