Last week I had one of those days where I felt like life, as I know it, was slipping away- there was just too much crap. Nothing huge, but a combination of everything getting to me: the dog snipped at someone, spirited debates with my husband, missing my friends down south, the dog quarantined, low weight of Baby Girl #2, rain that never let up, whinny Baby Girl #1, loneliness, and so forth. I felt like I was not getting a break and the hits just kept coming. Then "Mom Guilt " heaped to the 100-degree while my ex-friend "Postpartum Depression" again reared her ugly head. I thought I had gotten a grip. I thought I had mastered her. I thought I’d won and beat the nasty thing, but last week I realize while I may have been winning the battles, it is now clear that she is winning the war.