:: carjackings and other irrational fears ::

Rio and I had our first big adventure. We packed up and headed to Vermont for a midweek break. The intention was tri-fold, as my intentions usually are. First, Bear needed some sleep and he would be able to snooze away with us gone. Secondly, my pals needed someone to house-sit and keep an eye on their 16 year old son. Thirdly, there are dozens of people who hadn't even laid eyes on Rio yet, including my cherished god-daughter.

So, we went on late Sunday afternoon. I won't bore you with the amazing amount of gear that I felt compelled to pack, but let it suffice to say that the back of my new station wagon was jam packed. I fed Rio and then jumped in the car so we could make it to Vermont during her nap.

She didn't wake up until Barre which is 30 minutes from Stowe. I pulled off and parked in a commuter lot, across from a fire department. I have been in the backseat of a car in the dark before, but never has that experience included abject terror. I was breastfeeding her and looking all around and thinking the most awful thoughts about what might happen in the dark in the middle of nowhere at 10 o'clock at night. I had a complete plan for tucking Rio into the footwell, springing out of the car and murdering the unseen boogieman with my keys. Not so relaxing but we made it through our pitstop without incident and I didn't have to murder a single person.

Stowe wasn't bad. I visited with my dear friend Penny and her lovies; daughter Lindsay and grandson Carson. I saw Bobby for a New York second. I went to a pond and watched Carson catch frogs. It was all okay except that my skin was crawling off my body and all I wanted to do was get home. That second. Immediately.

I called the homeowners and explained I had lost my mind and was pretty sure it was at my house in Connecticut. I started to bawl uncontrollably and they were lovely about understanding and making other arrangements. I packed all the stuff back up, and headed home at 8 pm.

I was exhausted on the trip home. I was rubbing Purell on my face to stay alert. I burst into tears about 15 times. I realized I couldn't stop for coffee or go to the bathroom without bringing Rio inside and thus, waking her up. Then I would have to try to find another safe spot for changing and feeding. I had imbibed a couple of Red Bulls so my guts were roiling and I really had to go.

I pulled waaaay over on a shoulder. I got out and walked around to the passenger side, without getting struck by a passing vehicle and thus leaving my baby stranded and alone on the side of the road. Obviously I couldn't go into the woods and leave Rio to be carjacked in my highly desirable Subaru. So I peed next to the car. I had to go so badly that the splash was intense, soaking my sheepskin flipflops and my velour track pants up to the knees. Of course, my feet were drenched in my own urine, as well. I burst into tears for the 16th time, took off my pants and shoes and got back in the car.

I arrived home at 12:30, sobbing with no pants on. Bear seemed happy to see us.

***

So I know I'm not depressed. If one more person says, "Post partum depression" to me, I'll scream. I love my baby and my husband and my dogs and even my messy house. I think I would be able to tell if it were depression although I am sure as shit I'm having some sort of hormonal issue.

I always go a million miles an hour. Multi-task? I invented it when I used to read the New York Times while training myself on the potty. I can take an insane list of 'to do's' and turn it into 'just another busy day'. To be overwhelmed by a little travel and some visiting? Unheard of. But it happened. And I learned my lesson. I don't have post-partum as much as I have 'exhausted post-partum agoraphobia'. I just want to be home where I know where the extra diapers are, I have 3 chairs for breastfeeding with comfy pillows for Rio, I know Bear will be home soon to lend a hand.

I realized I can't do it all and shouldn't try. I am not well-versed enough with the care and feeding of Rio to take the show on the road. Anyone who needs to see her, can visit. And they can put their drink glass in the dishwasher. Yes, this child is changing my life in ways I couldn't have imagined. I'm becoming sensible.