In Which I Talk About "It Sucked And Then I Cried"

Last year before I left for Utah, the book "It Sucked And Then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, a Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita" by Heather B. Armstrong came in to the library as an early contender for Best Title of the Year.

Then when I was in Utah, we had an inquiry about a "high profile blogger" attending the Festival, and my boss wondered whether or not it would be Armstrong, who actually lives in Salt Lake City. It turns out the writer of the ubiquitous dooce.com would not be attending the Fest, but when her name came up again, I remembered both her and the title of her hilarious-sounding book.

I started reading the blog on and off when I got home, and it is extremely funny. So I put the book on hold. It came in for me (finally!) last week, and so I read it.

Like the info dump? No? Tough.

Let me start by saying that It Sucked and Then I Cried is not something I can really relate to at this time in my life. Sure, I want to be a mom someday, but I'm not currently married, not currently pregnant, and not currently thinking about getting pregnant. It Sucked is a month-by-month account of 18 months of pregnancy and post-pregnancy that Armstrong experienced, starting with going off of her anti-depressants in order to procreate.

I laughed a lot while reading this book, just like I laugh a lot while reading Armstrong's blog. She has a flair for language and over-dramatic writing that makes me very happy, and the way she addresses her own flaws and tendencies toward exaggeration is similar to mine (in my opinion). She knows she's crazy and refuses to take herself seriously. I like that.

It Sucked and Then I Cried was a disappointment to me. I loved reading about her relationship with her husband, and I loved reading about the dynamic of her family. Armstrong has very definite, rebel opinions with regard to her Mormon upbringing, and it's hysterical to read about the shock she gives her family just about every time she opens her mouth.

While I don't dispute the trauma of what she went through or the severity of her postpartum depression, I felt like she really skated over the details- for someone who claims to have thrown gallons of milk at her husband, she never really offers a single specific example. I'm more than willing to grant that these are terribly personal and painful things to write about, but then... don't write a book about it.

The overall message of the book was one of positive enforcement for those women suffering from postpartum depression- and that is something I cannot argue with. Armstrong goes so far as to have herself temporarily committed to a mental ward, and makes no apology for it. In fact, she maintains it saved her marriage, and her life itself.

I totally dig that. I just wish the author had given more detail about her experience.