I’m not a girl who tends towards depression. I actually really don’t have a lot of patience with depression (freely acknowledging that I have no actual experience with clinical depression). Garden variety sadness isn’t my thing. I’m not perpetually happy, frequently (in the interest of honesty) I can be bitchy or irritable, impatient, lazy. I’ve got a whole host of negative qualities, believe me, but depressed? It’s not my thing.
But I’ve been feeling a little off as of late. Holiday let down, all the excitement and activity of the past month is over, that might be part of it. I’ve had Jess home all week for Christmas vacation, and that might be a factor, although I doubt it. The pregnancy hasn’t been easy. I was so sick for the first trimester, and still spend most of my days feeling yucky. It’s gotten better, but I’m tired a lot, close to queasy most of the time, and as my belly gets bigger, it’s harder to pick up Sam, nursing has become all but impossible. I’m weepy and emotional, quick to tears or frustration. I have less patience than I’m used to, and it’s hard on everyone.
Sam’s been a wreck today. Huge, screaming temper tantrums, when he’s swinging out and kicking. And because I’m pregnant, I’m a lot less patient when it comes to him kicking or hitting at me. I’ve been snapping at poor Jess, simply because I’m so worn out with trying to deal with Sam. I don’t think he’s sick, but something is off. I, of course, blame myself. I nursed him twice today – and it hurt like hell both times. He screamed and cried – I instituted the “crying chair” because I didn’t know what else to do with the temper tantrums. If he wouldn’t stop screaming at me, and following me around the house, screaming and yelling, kicking and shoving at me when I tried to hold him, I’d put him on the chair and shut myself in the bedroom for three minutes, just trying to calm myself down enough to deal with him. I’ve never come as close to losing it as many times as I have today.
Marc took my two with him when he went to drive Lilli and Sarah home. And even that little half hour break made a world of difference for me. I sat, relaxed, watched an old episode of Friends, ate my leftover Chinese food and gave myself a long pep talk. It’s really mind over matter. And continuing to think of myself as miserable is just a self fulfilling prophesy. I understand the theory behind acknowledging your feelings, and not ignoring your emotions, but for me, I’m a big fan of the “fake it until you make it” philosophy. Because I don’t want to be a miserable, unhappy wife and mother. It’s not good for my kids, it’s not good for my husband, and it’s especially crappy for me.
Because when you get right down to it, when you really look at the circumstances of my life, I don’t have much to complain about. I have a great marriage, with a husband who loves me and tries his best to make me happy. I might have to point out what I need, but his overall goal is always to make me happy. I have a beautiful, smart almost seven year old – who might be prone to whining – but also made a special point of coming over to me several times today and rubbing my back while I cried, or crawled up into my lap for a hug because she knew that I needed it. And my rabid three year old – while he may have spent the majority of the day screaming and yelling at me – most of the time, he was screaming my name because he loves me and needs me. And he’s gorgeous and sweet and loving. And this pregnancy might be making me sick and tired and queasy all the the time – but it’s a strong, healthy baby – and I’m getting more and more bonded to her all the time. I’m getting a sense of her personality, or making up personality traits that I’m assigning her until I meet her :-).
I’m going to try just smiling for a while – try a little gratitude, a little bit of being grateful for what I have, all the amazing blessings and gifts that are present in my life. For every one’s sake. Because when Mommy isn’t happy – nobody is happy…
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