Exhausted... yes in my introduction post I talked a bit about this. Let's talk a little more about this shall we? Parents, you know this feeling. Mom's usually get the "most exhausted" trophy, but I know for a fact that this is a parent thing as a whole. My wonderful husband, Jack (even though he snores like a ban-saw cutting through granite) truly does understand the meaning of teamwork. He is definitely not the guy to ever use a vomit-worthy expression like "Woman's Work" (and shame on anyone for using that expression). He is the main "cook" in our family. Which is great because it is not my favorite task. He mops and vacuums, does laundry, definitely shares the work with the littles. Basically, his mom raised him right. However, that being said, there are some "extra exhausting" things that Moms just do. Like grow babies INSIDE their bodies... and give birth.
We are currently expecting our third child. Yes that is right. We are about to have 3 kiddos under the age of 5. My exhaustion has hit new heights. This pregnancy was not planned. I will admit that we were not as diligent about preventing it as we clearly should have been. The famous last words of "Honey, I'll make the vasectomy appointment after we get home from Vegas" were spoken. And now we are expecting a very expensive, very permanent Las Vegas Souvenir. Cliché I know, but it's true. Bottomless mimosas, three nights without the kids, and the Night Life atmosphere made us irresponsible at the age of 35. So here we are. Someday I'm sure it will be a fun story. No, I am not going to name my baby after anything to do with Las Vegas. I neither want her to be a stripper or him to be a pimp. But someday I'm sure the story of the conception will be heard by him/her. As it is a favorite of the family already.
The discovery of the pregnancy was not such a "cute" story. I was not expecting it at all and neither was Jack. In fact, Jack had actually said at one point, "If we ended up getting pregnant again I think I would simultaneously vomit and run." I laughed at the time because I felt pretty close to the same. Maybe not AS averse to it as he was because I'm a mother and it's always hard to imagine that your child bearing days are over (not this time though. This time I'm done. I will remove parts myself if I have to). But we had agreed that we were done. Hence the vasectomy discussion. I was good with it, he was great with it. The appointment just needed to be made and kept. Jack works construction, so the appointment had to be timed when he could take a couple of days off of lifting and bending. After Vegas apparently.... I digress. So the discovery was pretty shocking. I returned home late from a busy ER shift at about 1:30am. I had an unused pregnancy test in my pocket because more people than you would realize come to the ER for a pregnancy test. I keep a couple bedside tests in my pocket so I don't have to run and get one. I remember thinking "Hmmm... I was supposed to start today. Eh I'll take it so I don't lay in bed and think about being pregnant." Yeeeaahhh... I think you already know the result. The feeling of shock I felt was that of a 16 year old that had sex once in the back of a car and was now finding out she was pregnant. My life flashed before my eyes. Literally. All hope of sleeping through the night in the next year vanished and I felt just like Jack had described... like I might vomit while running through the night. The line was faint, so I had a fleeting moment of hope.... then I heard my very own condescending voice as I said to patients "faint is still positive," and "you don't get false positives; only false negatives," or even "you can't fake HCG, if it's there, you're pregnant." I immediately regretted having said those things and wished I couldn't hear myself saying them. I laid in bed, wide awake, until the next morning when it was acceptable to text my bestie, Kay. I mean, I think 6:15am is acceptable... right? I mean this is an emergency. She told me to come for coffee before my shift. Um, would there be vodka? Oh that's right. I can't drink vodka... BECAUSE I WAS PREGNANT! AGAIN! AT 35!
Kay was able to talk me down to juuusstt under hysterical. I didn't think I could tell Jack. In my own warped mind I thought I could wait until my first ultrasound appointment to see if it was really real. I took maybe 15 more pregnancy tests over the next 3 days. The lines just became darker each time and there was that condescending tone of mine again... "you don't get false positives." Finally, about 10 days later, I told Jack. He asked why I didn't drink my beer at his brother's birthday party and I sobbed "BECAUSE I'M PREGNANT!" To his credit he just nodded... and said "interesting." No other words were spoken. I dropped him off at his truck and he admitted that he screamed at the top of his lungs for the remaining 4 miles to our house, alone in his truck. I get it. I had been screaming randomly for 10 days. He blamed himself. I blamed Vegas. (I also kinda blamed him, but I totally know it was a team effort).
Neither of us was very happy during the next few weeks (ahem, months...). I cried pretty much anytime I was alone. We didn't talk to each other much. He kept telling me that of course he wasn't angry with me that he was angry with himself. We tried to talk about it but neither of us understood the way the other was processing this news. I have learned over my 11 years with Jack that he is a do-er, not a talker. If he feels bad about something, instead of saying he is sorry over and over he just does something that you have been wanting done. Whenever we fight about something, random chores would get completed in the following days such as a shelf put up, or my oil changed and car washed... that sort of thing. So Jack started doing a lot around the house. I was miserably sick, as I usually am while pregnant. He basically took care of everything while I was only able to crawl to the bathroom to dry heave and sip on pickle juice. He came home one day with a giant jar of pickles, doritos, and bomb pops because he remembered that those were the only things I could stand when I was pregnant with our girls. He definitely stepped up to pick up the slack. While I was very thankful and appreciative, this only made me feel worse. I have never been clinically depressed. I had some "baby blues" with my previous pregnancies, and I was sick with them in the beginning... but the all consuming despair that I was wrought with at this point was crushing (here is a resource on antepartum depression: https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/pregnancy-week-by-week/in-depth/depression-during-pregnancy/art-20237875). Everything made me feel worse about myself. I felt like a horrible mother because all I wanted to do was lay on the couch and feed the kids snacks. Also because I didn't have the normal "excitement" about this baby so I thought I must be a horrible person. I felt like a terrible wife because I couldn't even put clothes away or do the dishes. I had barely enough energy to drag myself through my 12 hour shifts at work, so when I was home I was pretty much a big pile of nothing. I kept the kids alive throughout the day, and that was my one and only goal. I felt like a failure in general. I mean, didn't women used to work in fields all day and give birth then keep working? How could I not do the dishes? We have all been told this story, of pioneer women popping out babies and they keep on picking corn. Yeah, I think that's a (not so urban) legend. I've read plenty of historical novels... and in none of them was there a woman that gave birth like a kangaroo, threw their baby in a pouch and kept on working the land. Therefore I must be an expert on the subject.
I will say things got a bit better during the 2nd trimester, as they often do. I found out my sister in law as also pregnant and only about 2 weeks behind me, and for some reason the thought of not being pregnant all alone made everything better. I got some energy back and started doing some pinterest-led pregnancy yoga and Pilates. Work seemed a little easier and I didn't feel like dead-woman walking. I even got back a little bit of my sex drive! Which is good for me because pregnancy usually zaps it completely! I was still tired, because, lets face it, I was tired all the time BEFORE this little surprise. But I felt a bit better and not as if I were completely drowning in a sea of depression. This lasted for a few precious weeks.
Now... at week 32... I am back in the depths of despair. About 3 weeks ago the soul-crushing exhaustion hit new heights and I was swept away in it. This demon baby (I jest of course, don't freak out) feels as if he/she might fall out of my vagina at any moment. I started randomly peeing my pants. Heartburn sears my esophagus until I'm certain my stomach acid must have burned a hole through the lining and is now spilling into my thoracic cavity. All fun things that make pregnant women cry. I literally feel as if I could lay down and sleep until labor begins. 8 weeks of sleep isn't too much to ask right?
I have never suffered from clinical depression before. My family has a very long list of members with diagnosed clinical depression, and while I support them fully and attempt to understand, I did not understand it until now. I did not understand the absolute incapability to enjoy normal things. I did not understand the desperation to feel better but having absolutely no idea how to do that. I am a researcher by nature, so I began looking up antepartum depression and found that it isn't all that uncommon and it can also put you a greater risk for post-partum depression (this is a great resource: http://americanpregnancy.org/pregnancy-health/depression-during-pregnancy/). While I am in the home stretch of my pregnancy and do not want to start taking medication at this point (after is a completely different story!), I looked to the internet for different ways to deal with this feeling. Many of them are common sense: eat well, exercise, talk to people about how your are feeling, confide in your partner, and get lots of sleep. Well. I don't know about you, but when I'm depressed all I want is ice cream and pizza rolls while sitting on the couch binge watching Will & Grace. I can't sleep because I am growing a baby and have two other littles that think it's really funny to play the "sleep torture" game and wake me up every hour or two for random requests or bad dreams. So yes, that is great advice. However, not very likely at this point.
I have a support system. I have family that loves me and whom I love with all my heart. I have a wonderful husband, that while he snores and isn't great at talking about deep emotional issues, does his best to help me in every way he knows how. I have two healthy, hilarious, smart, kind, rambunctious little girls that know when mama needs some extra love. I am expecting another sweet baby and have had no serious complications thus far with the pregnancy. I am one of the lucky ones. My depression has support. There are many moms (and dads!) that have no one. That have no one to understand how they are feeling or have people trying to shame them for feeling that way. I literally cannot imagine that. My heart goes out to those struggling with depression alone (here is a helpful website for those that need help https://www.healthline.com/health/depression/help-for-depression). I now understand what depression feels like and how it can affect your health, your life, those around you, your job, and the way you function.
We all need to talk about this. The exhaustion, the depression, the difficulty that comes with trying your best to be a good parent. No one should be ashamed of it. No one should feel like they have to hide from it. We can all be support for each other. That in itself can make things a little bit brighter.
We are currently expecting our third child. Yes that is right. We are about to have 3 kiddos under the age of 5. My exhaustion has hit new heights. This pregnancy was not planned. I will admit that we were not as diligent about preventing it as we clearly should have been. The famous last words of "Honey, I'll make the vasectomy appointment after we get home from Vegas" were spoken. And now we are expecting a very expensive, very permanent Las Vegas Souvenir. Cliché I know, but it's true. Bottomless mimosas, three nights without the kids, and the Night Life atmosphere made us irresponsible at the age of 35. So here we are. Someday I'm sure it will be a fun story. No, I am not going to name my baby after anything to do with Las Vegas. I neither want her to be a stripper or him to be a pimp. But someday I'm sure the story of the conception will be heard by him/her. As it is a favorite of the family already.
The discovery of the pregnancy was not such a "cute" story. I was not expecting it at all and neither was Jack. In fact, Jack had actually said at one point, "If we ended up getting pregnant again I think I would simultaneously vomit and run." I laughed at the time because I felt pretty close to the same. Maybe not AS averse to it as he was because I'm a mother and it's always hard to imagine that your child bearing days are over (not this time though. This time I'm done. I will remove parts myself if I have to). But we had agreed that we were done. Hence the vasectomy discussion. I was good with it, he was great with it. The appointment just needed to be made and kept. Jack works construction, so the appointment had to be timed when he could take a couple of days off of lifting and bending. After Vegas apparently.... I digress. So the discovery was pretty shocking. I returned home late from a busy ER shift at about 1:30am. I had an unused pregnancy test in my pocket because more people than you would realize come to the ER for a pregnancy test. I keep a couple bedside tests in my pocket so I don't have to run and get one. I remember thinking "Hmmm... I was supposed to start today. Eh I'll take it so I don't lay in bed and think about being pregnant." Yeeeaahhh... I think you already know the result. The feeling of shock I felt was that of a 16 year old that had sex once in the back of a car and was now finding out she was pregnant. My life flashed before my eyes. Literally. All hope of sleeping through the night in the next year vanished and I felt just like Jack had described... like I might vomit while running through the night. The line was faint, so I had a fleeting moment of hope.... then I heard my very own condescending voice as I said to patients "faint is still positive," and "you don't get false positives; only false negatives," or even "you can't fake HCG, if it's there, you're pregnant." I immediately regretted having said those things and wished I couldn't hear myself saying them. I laid in bed, wide awake, until the next morning when it was acceptable to text my bestie, Kay. I mean, I think 6:15am is acceptable... right? I mean this is an emergency. She told me to come for coffee before my shift. Um, would there be vodka? Oh that's right. I can't drink vodka... BECAUSE I WAS PREGNANT! AGAIN! AT 35!
Kay was able to talk me down to juuusstt under hysterical. I didn't think I could tell Jack. In my own warped mind I thought I could wait until my first ultrasound appointment to see if it was really real. I took maybe 15 more pregnancy tests over the next 3 days. The lines just became darker each time and there was that condescending tone of mine again... "you don't get false positives." Finally, about 10 days later, I told Jack. He asked why I didn't drink my beer at his brother's birthday party and I sobbed "BECAUSE I'M PREGNANT!" To his credit he just nodded... and said "interesting." No other words were spoken. I dropped him off at his truck and he admitted that he screamed at the top of his lungs for the remaining 4 miles to our house, alone in his truck. I get it. I had been screaming randomly for 10 days. He blamed himself. I blamed Vegas. (I also kinda blamed him, but I totally know it was a team effort).
Neither of us was very happy during the next few weeks (ahem, months...). I cried pretty much anytime I was alone. We didn't talk to each other much. He kept telling me that of course he wasn't angry with me that he was angry with himself. We tried to talk about it but neither of us understood the way the other was processing this news. I have learned over my 11 years with Jack that he is a do-er, not a talker. If he feels bad about something, instead of saying he is sorry over and over he just does something that you have been wanting done. Whenever we fight about something, random chores would get completed in the following days such as a shelf put up, or my oil changed and car washed... that sort of thing. So Jack started doing a lot around the house. I was miserably sick, as I usually am while pregnant. He basically took care of everything while I was only able to crawl to the bathroom to dry heave and sip on pickle juice. He came home one day with a giant jar of pickles, doritos, and bomb pops because he remembered that those were the only things I could stand when I was pregnant with our girls. He definitely stepped up to pick up the slack. While I was very thankful and appreciative, this only made me feel worse. I have never been clinically depressed. I had some "baby blues" with my previous pregnancies, and I was sick with them in the beginning... but the all consuming despair that I was wrought with at this point was crushing (here is a resource on antepartum depression: https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/pregnancy-week-by-week/in-depth/depression-during-pregnancy/art-20237875). Everything made me feel worse about myself. I felt like a horrible mother because all I wanted to do was lay on the couch and feed the kids snacks. Also because I didn't have the normal "excitement" about this baby so I thought I must be a horrible person. I felt like a terrible wife because I couldn't even put clothes away or do the dishes. I had barely enough energy to drag myself through my 12 hour shifts at work, so when I was home I was pretty much a big pile of nothing. I kept the kids alive throughout the day, and that was my one and only goal. I felt like a failure in general. I mean, didn't women used to work in fields all day and give birth then keep working? How could I not do the dishes? We have all been told this story, of pioneer women popping out babies and they keep on picking corn. Yeah, I think that's a (not so urban) legend. I've read plenty of historical novels... and in none of them was there a woman that gave birth like a kangaroo, threw their baby in a pouch and kept on working the land. Therefore I must be an expert on the subject.
I will say things got a bit better during the 2nd trimester, as they often do. I found out my sister in law as also pregnant and only about 2 weeks behind me, and for some reason the thought of not being pregnant all alone made everything better. I got some energy back and started doing some pinterest-led pregnancy yoga and Pilates. Work seemed a little easier and I didn't feel like dead-woman walking. I even got back a little bit of my sex drive! Which is good for me because pregnancy usually zaps it completely! I was still tired, because, lets face it, I was tired all the time BEFORE this little surprise. But I felt a bit better and not as if I were completely drowning in a sea of depression. This lasted for a few precious weeks.
Now... at week 32... I am back in the depths of despair. About 3 weeks ago the soul-crushing exhaustion hit new heights and I was swept away in it. This demon baby (I jest of course, don't freak out) feels as if he/she might fall out of my vagina at any moment. I started randomly peeing my pants. Heartburn sears my esophagus until I'm certain my stomach acid must have burned a hole through the lining and is now spilling into my thoracic cavity. All fun things that make pregnant women cry. I literally feel as if I could lay down and sleep until labor begins. 8 weeks of sleep isn't too much to ask right?
I have never suffered from clinical depression before. My family has a very long list of members with diagnosed clinical depression, and while I support them fully and attempt to understand, I did not understand it until now. I did not understand the absolute incapability to enjoy normal things. I did not understand the desperation to feel better but having absolutely no idea how to do that. I am a researcher by nature, so I began looking up antepartum depression and found that it isn't all that uncommon and it can also put you a greater risk for post-partum depression (this is a great resource: http://americanpregnancy.org/pregnancy-health/depression-during-pregnancy/). While I am in the home stretch of my pregnancy and do not want to start taking medication at this point (after is a completely different story!), I looked to the internet for different ways to deal with this feeling. Many of them are common sense: eat well, exercise, talk to people about how your are feeling, confide in your partner, and get lots of sleep. Well. I don't know about you, but when I'm depressed all I want is ice cream and pizza rolls while sitting on the couch binge watching Will & Grace. I can't sleep because I am growing a baby and have two other littles that think it's really funny to play the "sleep torture" game and wake me up every hour or two for random requests or bad dreams. So yes, that is great advice. However, not very likely at this point.
I have a support system. I have family that loves me and whom I love with all my heart. I have a wonderful husband, that while he snores and isn't great at talking about deep emotional issues, does his best to help me in every way he knows how. I have two healthy, hilarious, smart, kind, rambunctious little girls that know when mama needs some extra love. I am expecting another sweet baby and have had no serious complications thus far with the pregnancy. I am one of the lucky ones. My depression has support. There are many moms (and dads!) that have no one. That have no one to understand how they are feeling or have people trying to shame them for feeling that way. I literally cannot imagine that. My heart goes out to those struggling with depression alone (here is a helpful website for those that need help https://www.healthline.com/health/depression/help-for-depression). I now understand what depression feels like and how it can affect your health, your life, those around you, your job, and the way you function.
We all need to talk about this. The exhaustion, the depression, the difficulty that comes with trying your best to be a good parent. No one should be ashamed of it. No one should feel like they have to hide from it. We can all be support for each other. That in itself can make things a little bit brighter.
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