Happy All the Time vs. The Reality

Twenty two weeks pregnant. Baby T is kicking more every day. I can feel him getting stronger in there, and I think he's far more active than D ever was.
So I should be on cloud nine, right? I should be. I wish I was. Instead I find that the hormone phases are dragging me down, and I'm struggling with depression. I'm finally here and I'm depressed. It took an extra measure of push to make myself get out of bed yesterday, and not just because I was tired. I haven't hit the "I'm not sure I can get up" stage thankfully, because that's a bad sign, but this is a little step further than I've been in a while.
It only adds to the problem to feel like this should be a time when I'm incredibly happy and I'm not. It feels like I'm not appreciating it or I'm somehow betraying all the others who would literally give an organ to be in my position. I'm sorry. I really am. I want to be incredibly happy, but I can't seem to get there most of the time. I'm finally "making it", and I'm not enjoying all the moments.
I hate to live feeling like this. When nothing feels worth looking forward to, when each day seems like another thing to get through, when my patience for my son is short and I, in turn, am short with him. When tears for how hard it is are often near the surface.
A reassures me that I felt like this with D, which may not sound reassuring, but it reminds me that this will most likely pass, it probably won't be long term, or the beginning of a spiral. I know also that my previous hormone "swings" in this pregnancy have come for several days and then moved on, so I'm hoping for the same for this one. In the meantime, I'm realizing that I need to be a bit more proactive in trying to fight it. Hence this blog post - one creative outlet to try to process and diffuse some of the feelings, plus the crayons that came out last night to put some of it down in color. Back to decent bedtimes and more effort to get daily walks. Appointment with my therapist this week. Keep reminding myself that the light is coming. It will come.

It's not exceptional art, but its purpose is expression.

My promise to keep him safe, both inside and out, from the depression and 

anxiety that threaten.

According to my midwife, depression during pregnancy is not uncommon. Which doesn't really surprise me, but isn't something I've heard much about. If you're feeling depressed or struggling while pregnant, talk to someone. You're not alone. You're not broken. Bring it up at your next appointment. Your care provider can help you, even if you just need some tips for managing. And there are others out there who know what it's like and can give understanding and support. Also, prenatal depression does not make you a bad mother, even if it's trying to tell you that.

Getting Ready

Every time we take another step towards being ready to try to conceive, my stress levels take another bump and I spiral a little farther. Everything becomes a bit overwhelming, and I'm wondering what the heck I'm thinking considering doing this again, especially since I'm so obviously failing at everything already on my plate.

I ended up doing another panel of blood tests when my current doctor finally got all of my records from my previous one. There were a lot of clotting factors that she wanted to check that hadn't been done yet. I have the result from all but one of the tests so far, and they are all normal. I should hopefully have the last result in the next few days and that's it - testing is done, there is no where else to go from here except ttc.  I'm currently on cycle day five, so that means we are facing this possibility in the next week. Those of you who saw my meltdown yesterday may understand some of why that happened. It's been two years since we decided to try to have another baby, and a year since we stopped after four losses. Getting back on this horse is pretty fear inducing.
After my initial collapse, and sobbing out all my feelings of failing at life, and not feeling capable of handling the things already in my life, while Boy tried really hard to be a good listener, which then led to a little nap, because I was oh so exhausted, we had a long talk. About our family, how we really like the way it is right now, but how I still have moments where I don't feel like it's finished, how I wonder if it's really fair to put everyone through the stress of ttc, and possibly more losses, or pregnancy after loss, and then the newborn sleepless nights and months of teething, and getting Bug to adjust to a new sleeping arrangement, and having to share Mama and "sidey," and going through three years old again, and ohmygosh, is it really what I should be doing?! And how can I choose this if I'm the only one in the house that wants a baby? Cause Bug says he wants a baby, but he really has no idea what that will mean to his life and the single-childness that he's come to know over the past four years. And Boy has always said that he's perfectly content with how our family is now, and he's fine with trying for another one, but it was basically for me, because I wanted one. Which has been ok in the past, but at times, especially now, feels like he doesn't really want another baby, and would prefer if we just stopped this craziness cause one child was ideal for him. So how do I keep going if he would rather we didn't and is only doing it for me? He tells me my needs and wants are important, too, but I guess this is something I struggle with and it just feels so unfair to put myself above them on something this big, difficult, and life changing.
Boy tells me that he can't put that on me. He can't say that he wants another baby, because if it doesn't work  he doesn't want me to feel guilty for not being able to give him another child. I know that this is a likely thing, so I understand his point of view. He also talks about the other side of it and not wanting to say that we shouldn't do this, because he doesn't want me to resent him in ten years because we didn't try. But, as we continue to work through all of this, he makes this statement, "I want another baby."
I knew I wanted him to be with me on this, or to at least know that he really wouldn't prefer to have just one child, but I didn't realize how much difference it would make until it was there. I feel more freedom in this now. I can go forward on this now, knowing that I'm not pushing something on him that he doesn't really want, and that he wants this with me. It's still hard for either of us to feel with certainty that the risks of going ahead are preferable to just stopping and staying where we are - I mean, if we are just going to go through losses and pain and not end up with a baby, then that doesn't really outweigh just staying as we are - but we both would prefer to have two children in our family. For me, this is a joyful thing. I'm so glad that I can share this with my Boy. I know this could be a very hard journey, but now I feel a bit more ready to start it.

A New Thing

Several years ago, I finally noticed that my life was not what it should be. I was depressed and I needed help. I wish I had had a better idea of what warning signs to look for, but I didn't. I thought I was fine. Seriously, I should have known that it wasn't ok to have mornings where it was hard to get out of bed. Where I needed to call Boy to help me put my underwear on. I just thought I was letting myself be overly dramatic, that really, I could do it, if I just made myself. I should have known that it wasn't ok to be getting upset every time Boy came home from work, and less ok that at one point I wanted to scream, "Could you please just stop breathing?!" because everything he did, even how he breathed, was irritating me. I just thought that I was hormonal, going through a rough patch in our marriage, whatever. The realization point for me was one morning while getting ready for work. I knocked the cats water dish with my foot and soaked down my sock. Annoying, but you just go change them, right? Nope. I broke down. Sat on the floor and bawled. Finally, my head said, "This is not ok. A wet sock shouldn't destroy you. Something is wrong." I met with my doctor and after a few hits and misses, found anti-depressants that helped me feel normal again. I used them for two years, and then slowly weaned off through much ups and downs as my body readjusted, eventually taking over and doing the job on it's own.
Ever since then, I've been terrified of heading down that path again. It stole my joy and my life. Turned my marriage into a burden. Took all my usefulness and made me nonfunctional. Every time I have a few bad days, it scares me. If things are feeling grimmer than usual, it scares me. If Boy feels especially irritating, it scares me. I know I struggled with depression as a teenager, hormones I suppose, and this deeper bout with depression was brought on by hormone imbalances (birth control pills) and stress. Now, I will never do the pill again, but guess who's life has been full of stress for quite a while now? Yeah, mine.
Boy has been looking for work longer than he's been out of work, and that's been since November. I don't know if any other hiring process is quite so stressful as within the church. I think they have more steps than other hiring processes and the waiting in between each step is often at least a month. So we are talking 5-6 months for the entire search to hire, or at least a month to find out if you've been rejected right off the bat. And the rest of your life in the meantime? It's on hold. You don't want to make any major decisions, commitments, or changes because you don't know what your life will be like in a few months. You don't know where you will be living, or how much income you will have, or if you will still be on hold. It's a sucky way to live.
The past year has also been full of dealing with, well mostly waiting on, doctors and hoping/fighting/despairing over trying to find answers as to why I've had so many miscarriages. Either one of these big things is a lot of stress. Together they are immense and overwhelming. Throw in a bad habit of going to bed late, with a little one whose struggled with his sleep this summer, resulting in some serious sleep shortage and we have a cocktail for disaster.
A few days ago I sat down with Boy to tell him how I'd been feeling. I was worried and scared. It seemed like I was spending a lot of time irritated with him and I was pretty sure it was me, not him or our marriage (although I'm not sure spending almost every second together for the past nine months has been that great for us. We love sharing everything and being together a lot, but we never have a chance to miss each other.) Also, I thought that I maybe wasn't being happy very often. I ended up breaking down, totally freaked out that I was headed towards depression and needing medication. He tried to calm me and said it wasn't that bad. He'd help me keep an eye on it, but I was doing ok. He prayed with me and for me, and I prayed. In praying many of the burdens and pain I've been carrying for years came out. My spirit touched again by Emerging Mummy and led by the heart of a child, I poured out that my heart was full of bitterness and cynicism and irritation, and I didn't want it anymore. I was tired of carrying it around. Despite the "coolness" of being a cynical Christian, and of being wary of emotional spiritual displays,and being too cool to be one of "those" ("Isn't Jesus great?!!") Christians, I didn't want it anymore. I was tired and broken and done. I wanted my heart to be full of him, and full of love, peace, and the joy he promises. I called and he answered. Somehow I felt freer, happier, and more alive. I also felt more connected to my husband than I had in months. Things weren't perfect. I knew I wasn't perfectly healed or over all I'd been feeling, but I knew he had heard me.
The next day I felt like nothing had changed. I was frustrated, irritated, and breaking down again. I felt dragged under, like things were actually worse than before. Talked with Boy and felt myself falling apart. "Where is he? Why can't I have the joy so many others have? Seriously. I can understand him not healing every cancer patient ever prayed for, not saving each baby I lost, not protecting every person from sickness or death, but when it comes to spiritual healing, why wouldn't he give that as soon as it was asked for? Isn't that what he wants most of all? Isn't that what Christ is all about? Why? Why can't I just have joy? Why would he deny that?" I don't remember all he said, but I remember his face and him voicing his fears that I would just give up. There have been many times I've struggled with believing God was really real, mainly because of wondering where the peace and joy were. I know that's not what I want. From the depths of my soul came, "I will not give up. I choose Christ. I choose joy." He promises these things and I will not give up until I have them. I will pursue them until they are mine.
There is no explanation for how this has happened, but these past few days have held more joy for me than the past year did. I've had moments of overwhelming, bubbling out of me, had to giggle out loud, joy. I've been more connected with my husband than I have been in months. I've initiated more kisses with him, than several previous weeks combined. Last night, we actually played together, wrestling and teasing like little kids. I can't remember that last time we did that. It's not been all sunshine and roses. There are times when the fear consumes me and I worry that none of it is real, I'm going down again, where is God and joy? There are times when I'm so irritated and frustrated I could cry. There are times when the cynicism takes hold and I think, "There is no way this job for Boy will work out. This doctor won't be able to help me, just like the others. This all has just been fleeting hope, and I will just be back where I started, wondering where God and his promises come into my life." But, I am finding ways to connect. I'm realizing how much I need quiet time, with no chance of distraction, times to walk alone and sit at the water, and be overwhelmed by God's Spirit. Each day is still a struggle, but if each has moments of joy, I am beginning to heal; to be a whole functioning person again, instead of pieces scattered on the floor. My heart has been a wasteland, but he is doing a new thing.
I choose Joy.
Isaiah 43: 18-19:
“See, I am doing a new thing! 
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? 
I am making a way in the desert 
and streams in the wasteland.”


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Disclaimer - Depression and faith have a very real connection, but in NO way do I think that if you are depressed it's because of lack of faith. My faith could not save me when I experienced long term depression before, and I am very grateful that anti-depressants were available. Depression is a condition that can eat your soul from the inside out, but it's also a medical problem. Sometimes faith can carry us through and I have seen God heal those struggling with it. Sometimes it can be managed with a good diet, sunshine, and exercise. Sometimes you need counselling. Sometimes medication is needed. More often than not, it's a combo of these things. If you think you may be depressed, please talk with your doctor or counselor. They can help you come up with what will work for you. Please don't suffer alone trying to ignore it, or "just get by." I am still trying to keep an eye on how I am doing, and am constantly reevaluating if this is just a blue period where I seriously need more sleep and less stress, or if it is pointing to a greater problem.