
Situation
My husband was a Marine; I was pulled from my home to live on a Marine base with other women in similar situations. We were all parents or were pregnant, just about every day I met someone who was either recently released from the maternity ward or was scheduled to go. I heard the toughest job in the Marines was being a dependent wife and I agree. He was hardly ever home, and when he was, it was to grab a bite. He didn't even sleep in our bed. I know, hindsight is 20/20 and once I had proof, I was out of there. The situation did not help with my postpartum. I was crying every night I put my son to bed, even long after I think I was past the postpartum stage, but I can't be sure. I realized that wasn't how I wanted to raise my son; I didn't want him to know me as always being sad.
Solution
I began exercising. I started off slowly, I slung my baby in the Snugli and we walked around the neighborhood. Luckily, exercising is addictive. We went out every day, then we went multiple times in the day, then we extended our walks and incorporated fits of jogging. Along the way we met people who shared an interest in walking, sometimes they'd meet up and walk with us, but we were mostly on our own. On our walks I talked to the baby, I sang songs, said movie lines, memorized the alphabet backwards, and recited states and capitols and nations of the world. I grew confident and uncovered a strength I forgot I had, the postpartum disappeared. I was challenging myself physically and intellectually instead of moping around in a pit of despair. I became a person I knew my son would be proud of.