revelation about post-partum depression

This afternoon, after Atticus's nap and his massage and my holding him up in the air so that he could be a flying baby, he had a meltdown. That baby screamed at me off and on (but mostly on) for nearly 40 minutes that felt more like four days. I better understood then why fussy babies are a common factor in postpartum depression. It's depressing as hell when your baby screams at you no matter what you do, and despite that you have spent a good hour and a half straight giving him your undivided attention, time during which he was as blissful as a baby can be--smiling and giggling. It seems cruel and ungrateful (something akin to when in their adolescence they don't want to be seen with you in public and in their teenage years they don't want to live on the same planet as you, I guess), and like I said, downright depressing. Lucky for me, Atticus is a really agreeable baby. He rarely cries for more than a few seconds at a time. And thank goodness. I don't know how you parents of fussier babies do it. I feel for you.

I tried a dozen different things to calm him. What finally worked was music and dancing. It always does. I should have come to that sooner.

Oh, and remember when I said we'd somehow so far avoided a major blow-out in the car seat? That luck ended Saturday. What is the scale for blow-outs? Zero to 10? If so, I'd say this was a 9. The only thing saving it from a 10 was that nobody ingested any poop as far as I know. I think I went through about 30 wipes trying to clean him, me, the car seat, the changing pad, etc.