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Emily Kreiberg

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Postpartum Day 7

The author and her two children, Sadie and Lucy, meeting for the first time.

Some Old Testament history here for you good people.

According to the Old Testament, God created the world in an orderly way so that every part has a purpose.

After spending seven days on His creation, God did not rest because He was tired, but because His work of creating the world was finished.

On day 7 of His creation; God rested. He rested because his work of creation was finished.

It is day 7 of my postpartum with Lucy and I am feeling much the same way.

Today marks day 7 of this terrible postpartum and I am finally feeling like I can begin to rest.

Lucy Naomi, you were the absolute best labour and delivery experience I could have possibly hoped for.

Lucy Naomi, you were the absolute Worst postpartum experience I could have ever imagined.

I wish my last 7 days on No One- they were That bad.

It is my 7th day of postpartum. And I am done with being miserable.

I am done with being angry and being in pain and feeling alone and feeling sad.

I am done with missing my dead Mother and craving her presence so badly that it physically hurt.

My mother is in me.

She is in Lucy.

She is in my sisters, Victoria and Sarah.

She is in my Aunty Shelley Macleod and in my cousin Emma Brewster.

She could not be here in postpartum for me this time, but she sent me Kate n Bob Schofield. And for that, I am forever grateful.

On day 7 of my postpartum, I am done with all my hurt feelings.

I am ready to move forward into my beautiful, wonderful life with Ryan Schofield, the father of my children.

Once again, through trial by fire, he has proven to be my absolute perfect match.

Without him- I am strong.

But with him beside me and on my team-nothing can get me down.

In the last 7 days-

I lost half of my total hemoglobin.

I gained another beautiful baby girl.

It was the best of times. And it was Definitely the worst of times.

Postpartum Day 7- let’s do this.

I am So, So ready to welcome Joy.


Post-Script: A Reminder Regarding my Bipolar Disorder.

I have bipolar disorder.

I am Very open about this fact.

Sometimes to a fault, because I tell you, being open about having bipolar is a very vulnerable thing to do.

I have chosen to be open about my bipolar because I do not want to feel shame about my mental illness.

It is a part of who I am. It does not define me, but it is a part of my family history, my genetics. It is my reality.

I refuse to hide my label.

I do so in the hopes that others will start having the strength to be open about their own struggles.

Choosing to live this openly leaves me vulnerable to attacks sometimes- I am acutely aware of this.

People can (and will, and do) judge me and my actions differently because I have bipolar and they know it.

It has come to my attention that some concerned and well-intended people have been texting/messaging my partner Ryan Schofield with questions/concerns about my social media usage over the past 7 days.

I respectfully ask that you please stop doing this.

Ryan has been through the ringer as much as I have over the last 7 days.

We’re both exhausted.

We’re both sick of doctors and hospitals and labs and being away from our home.

In these past 7 days, Ryan and I still have yet to sit on the couch with our two daughters and to marvel in the new family we’ve just created.

My two giant hemorrhages and subsequent hospitalization have stolen that from us.

We are both running on fumes.

The last thing Ryan needs right now is concerned messages from loving people about the hours I’ve been spending on social media and my blog site.

What you might not know is that I Ask Ryan before I feel the need to go write something down in the middle of the night.

I tell him that I need an hour.

I set an alarm and I write for one hour. And then I come back to bed.

Writing is my strongest mental health coping tool. I am a writer. I write. That’s what I do.

Facebook is a platform that I use to speak on and to be heard, and my blog at is the thing I am most proud of in my life, other than my two children.

Writing helps me clear my head. To try and take that from me would be the Worst move you could make in the interests of my better mental health.

I owe None of you this explanation, by the way.

I am writing about it for two reasons. For education purposes, and to kindly ask people to get off my partner’s back. He’s carrying a big enough load already.

People don’t know how to respond when someone is struggling and also has a mental illness.

That’s okay, to not know what to do.

If it’s someone like me you’re dealing with; someone who was clawed my way up from hell and has successfully managed my bipolar disorder for 7.5 years on my own with medication, therapy, diet, sleep and a Fuck ton of personal effort-

It’s really easy.

Just Ask.

Ask me what I need, and I will tell you.

If you want to help our family- genuinely help our family, bring us fresh fruit. Leave it on our doorstep. Bring us more vanilla almond milk and orange juice with no pulp. Bring us toilet paper. Bring something thoughtful for Sadie and Lucy. Leave it on our doorstep at 1222 Smith Ave Crossfield AB. Don’t ring the doorbell. Send me a text message or a FB messenger and tell me there’s something on my porch. Send us a text or a message and tell us you love us. Tell us you love us and that we’re doing a great job and that our children are beautiful. Because they are. They really, really are.

Thank you.

The Schofields.

Please comment if anything I have said really spoke to you. I quit newspapers becuase they weren't interactive. PLeASE interact. Amen!
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