Hormones are the Devil

I've been hesitant to write lately because if I write the truth it's not pretty.  And I don't like to sugarcaot things here so its been easier to just stay silent.  But I figure it's not doing anyone any favors for me to just sit here and give off the vibe that things are hunky dory when they're not.

 

About ten days ago a funk set it.  It started on a Saturday morning when I just didn't feel right.  Julian was hyperactive all morning and his kicks, jabs and headbutting made me feel off.  I was uncomfortable by his antics, but not in pain.  But I felt, well, blah.  Friends came over for a festival in our neighborhood and were a welcome distraction for a few hours.  After they left I could only convince myself to lay on the couch and moan to Mr. Cob.  The next day was Mother's Day.  My boys were sweet to me all day and we went to brunch with my parents.  I felt down most of that morning as well, but just chalked it up to being pregnant.  Later in the day we went to our good friends' house with a few other friends, but I didn't want to go.  I may have cried on the way over.  I just didn't have it in me to be cheerful.  Luckily these friends don't expect me to smile all the time and they get it.  Lukas enjoyed playing with his best friend and Mr. Cob had a nice break from me.  But I'd be lying if I said that the entire time we were gone I wasn't waiting to go home. 

 

The next day I had an OB appointment.  I mentioned to my doctor that I was feeling off and slightly depressed.  She asked if it was the same feeling that I had when the postpartum/post-weaning depression set in.  I told her it was close, but didn't feel that strong yet.  She said we'd keep an eye on it and to call her if it got much worse, but in the meantime she advised me to stop doing any "extra" stuff.  Meaning: go to work, take care of Lukas and chill out/relax.  So I'm trying to do that.

 

The rest of last week sort of floated by in a haze.  Work is busy and a welcome distraction. 

 

And then last Friday happened.  With the intention of filling out my weekly pregnancy survey I hopped on the scale to determine my weight gain for the week.  This was a mistake and was the push I didn't need to send me over the edge.  That was the moment the tears really started.  I went to work that morning in a major slump.  I shut my door and kept to myself.  But all day I was seriously down.  I had plans to go out with girlfriends that night, and had enough time to treat myself to a pedicure before dinner, hoping to relax.  It helped a bit.  Dinner and a 50 Shades of Grey musical parody helped a bit as well.  But I got home that night and resumed the sulking.

 

Saturday morning I woke up sad.  My in-laws were in town visiting and Mr. Cob convinced me to join the group for a walk to the local farmer's market.  I tried to be cheerful.  I failed.  I'm sure I was short with my in-laws.  I know I was short with my husband.  They all left me for the majority of the day to go watch Mr. Cob play two soccer games.  I sat on the couch and watched a Fast and the Furious marathon.  Paul Walker and Vin Diesel didn't even help.  That night we had plans to go out with a group of friends to dinner for my best friend's birthday.  I love my friend dearly, but I did not want to go.  I cried in the car ride to the restaurant and told Mr. Cob that I wasn't sure I could do it.  I just could not pretend to be happy at dinner and I did not want to go.  But we went.  Thankfully we went.  Dinner pulled me out of the funk a bit.  My BFF's honesty that "actually I looked good" made me laugh.  Not having to pretend I was OK was nice. I actually really enjoyed the evening.  It was a welcome change.

 

Sunday I woke up happy.  I cooked waffles from scratch and we spent the day at the Aquarium.  My little man held my hand as we looked at the fish.  His amazement and joy made me smile.  I started to feel like me again.  I hoped it would last. 

 

It didn't.  Monday morning I cried within 5 minutes of being at work.  A very small thing sent me over the edge again.  And I cried on and off for the morning.  Mr. Cob took me out to lunch.  We talked about whether or not my behavior was similar to the post-weaning depression and he said he thought it was.  I think he's right.

 

So I'm left deciding what to do.  I have 8 weeks until Julian is due.  That's not a short period of time when we're talking about depression and sadness.  I did some research and I don't feel comfortable taking any medication.  Apparently acupuncture has helped some women in this situation, so I'm going to do some research on that.  And last night I downloaded a new pregnancy relaxation/meditation program.  I feel asleep half way through the meditation, but I felt calm while I was awake.  And I slept all night without waking up.  And today I haven't cried and I don't feel quite as down.  Here's to hoping the meditation and renewed effort to exercise helps keep the stress and sadness away.

 

Despite the sadness, the sincere truth is that I am so excited to be having this baby.  And I cannot wait to meet him.  I look forward to being up in the middle of the night with him nursing him and smelling that sweet newborn smell.  I know Lukas is going to be an awesome big brother and my heart bursts just thinking about the two boys growing up together.

 

But it's not sunshine and roses every day right now.  On the one hand, I am overjoyed to be pregnant and expanding our family.  I hope to be pregnant at least one more time in the future. (Crazy, perhaps).  But the day to day part of it is hard right now.  My poor husband is bearing the brunt of it, and he's been amazing.  Nothing he says helps.  Nothing he does helps.  But he keeps trying and more importantly, he keeps showing up.  He lets me be sad.  He lets me lay on the couch.  He lets me complain and he still loves me.  For this I am thankful. 

 

So that's what it's feeling like to be 32 weeks pregnant right now.  There are some sad days and some really happy days.  And I'm just really hoping the scale tips back permanently to the happy side soon.  I don't like this glass half empty side of myself.