I have my 8 week check coming up on Monday. 8 week. Madness. I don’t know where it’s gone.

I know, I just know that the doctor will ask how I’m feeling, to try and gauge whether I might have Post Natal Depression.

I don’t. Not PND. I have life. Things that have gone wrong, that make me feel, well, prett damn miserable actually. But is it PND? No, it’s bad timing. It’s stuff that if it cropped up at any other time, people would understand, but because it’s all come to a head after I’ve had a baby, it will be PND.

It’s my house that wouldn’t sell, that has left us paying two mortgages since January, so we have no money.

It’s my mum going through the diagnostic process for Dementia, even though we all know what the end result will be, it’s dealing with her anger and mood swings. Psychiatrists, brain scans.

It’s my dad that has had heart problems, and now may have something else wrong with him, he’s waiting on results.

It’s my brother with learning difficulties that has just moved out for the first time, who still hasn’t got all his benefits sorted, so is struggling to cope, and social workers that cancel appointments at the last minute. Trying to do everything for him, forms, phonecalls, meetings.

It’s trying to do everything for everyone, and not having help from any other family, as well as looking after everyone in my own house.

It’s dealing with the terrible twos.

It’s trying to keep a smile on my face when smiling is the last thing I want to do.

It’s not PND.

I don’t want sympathy. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. That’s not why I’ve written this. But if you ask how I am, and I say “Pretty miserable actually” then you know why.