Delicious Day

When I my firstborn child was only 5 months old I was in a bad, bad place. Hoo boy I had an impressive case of postpartum depression.

Except I didn't know it.

I just thought this was my life. My new life as a mother. And I thought my life was just going to be one bad crying fit after another. All day. All night. Forever.

And my momma knew something was wrong. I don't think she suspected postpartum, but I think she knew something didn't smell right with me. Something was off.

Mommas just know these things.

So she did what any good Southern mother would do in this situation: she suggested we bake.

Oh, you heard me.

She called me up that day in December and said she was planning to take the day off work to do her holiday baking (all Southern women bake for the holidays, didn't you know?). She suggested she come to my house and we do our baking together.

Honestly, I almost declined her offer - as that meant I'd have to take a shower. And maybe carve a path through the dirty laundry and dishes to find the kitchen.

But she came. Momma arrived that day and we spent hours and hours in the kitchen cooking my grandmother's recipes for gingersnaps and pumpkin bread.

In between mixing and pouring, momma would rock and rock my baby and coo at him and tell me he was the most beautiful baby in the history of time.

And I began to believe her.

And I began to feel better. Just a bit. Enough, though, that I think that day was the launching point out of the pit of despair I'd been wallowing in. I didn't fully emerge until I stopped nursing (when my hormones could finally return to normal). But that day was so lovely.

So the next year, I suggested we do it again.

And then we did it again the following year.

In fact, today marked the 5th Annual Baking Day for us. And what a difference 5 years can make.

Bakers with helpers/testers/tasters.

For one thing, that newborn baby boy now weighs 50lbs.

Oh, and he has a sister (who, frankly, weighs almost as much).

The biggest change, however, is that I've never felt that low again. As low as the day we started baking.

I'm sure I could give the credit to the gingersnaps.

Did you need me to sample that cookie, Nana?

And don't get me wrong, those gingersnaps are good.


But momma is better.

And a whole day with her? Well, that's just delicious.