I just found out on Instagram that dads are now wanting to claim that they, too, suffer from postpartum depression. I rushed to my blog to write this and I’m not googling “fathers postpartum depression” because I’m sure that some dads out there are bellyaching about all these symptoms that came with the arrival of the newborn, and some whack sociologists ran some “study” and then labeled it “Male Postpartum Depression Found Among Fathers.”
But I ain’t googling nothing.
Because it’s bullshit.
Now just c’mon fellow dads. Can you give the moms a break for once? You know, your partner who vomited for months on end. Your partner whose hormones bounced around this universe from day one, hour to day to week to month in ways she couldn’t even express except that she cried then laughed and ate weird stuff and craved food or she would vomit, yet again.
Are you the one with back aches and headaches and stretch marks and swollen feet?
The one with nipples that are ripped to shreds?
Your nipples stay the same, dads.
And your bodies have no part of her pregnancy. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
So stop whining.
Have the balls, daddies who “suffer from daddy postpartum depression,” to say you’re tired. Declare it’s stressful. Express that your serotonin levels are low.
SAY YOU AREN’T GETTING ANY MORE SEX.
But shut-up about the postpartum depression crap.
It’s hormonal, you idiots.
Serve her. Give to her. Listen.
Let it be her moment of glory.