I learned a lot about myself when I became a mother. Actually I learned that I had a few gifts in more abundance than I thought. I had more patience and energy than I ever thought I possessed. I could roll with the punches with ease. I could take deep breathes and channel some inner peace during the fights, cries, and whines. I could be up most of the night and dance all day. Sure there are days when I’m crashed or at the end of my rope, but they’re not every week or day like I assumed they would be before motherhood. I thought I would take up smoking, have kids addicted to TV, and drink a few shots after I put the little demons to bed. None of that has happened . . . yet.
So when I started to feel the darkness growing around me, pulling me into a life-sucking muck, I was pissed and scared. I didn’t want to give up what I had. I’ve been done those dark roads before, and I didn’t know how I could be a good mother while fighting to get out of bed, fighting to smile, fighting to move, fighting to feel. And I told you all about it, and I was amazed by the outpour. I wasn’t looking for comfort, just throwing a bottle out in the sea to know that I wrote it out, I spoke out those words, I still had a voice.
The good news is it’s been three weeks since I’ve felt depressed. I don’t know what changed. Sure I got out in the sun more, and I made sure I always added thankfulness to my prayers. But I never did much exercise. I never got around to going to church. (Sleep or church; sleep or church; sleep or church; guess which won?) Instead I kept my finger on the pulse. I faked being normal. Somehow my hormone levels must have balanced out. I have my energy back. I don’t feel sucked of life at the end of the day. Granted, I’m tired as hell, but I’m hugely pregnant, so I figured that’s the reason.
Thank you to all of you. I’m still on guard for post partum. My doctor is still keeping an eye on me. But I’m glad I’m able to meet the rest of my pregnancy fully armed and ready to roll.