Posts Tagged ‘depression’

I am about to tell you something that I couldn’t tell my friends or midwives at the time. I couldn’t even tell my husband, because I was scared if I said it out loud that it would be true.

Before #MissVee was born, I was afraid I wouldn’t love her.

Now that she is here, I feel I can say it out loud. It was a big fear of mine. For those who believe our brains can control our bodies, it could also be why she decided to wait 9 days past her estimated due date to make her appearance.

In terms of big psychological hang-ups, this one was pretty huge.

Last July, an unanticipated pregnancy was confirmed by early ultrasound. Two hours later, I found out that my brother died in a tragic motorcycle collision. My husband and older boys were out of town at camp and on a Scouts canoe trip — unreachable by phone. I was alone with my 4yr old. Frantic with grief, I holed up with my youngest and waited for the rest of my family to come home.

That week prevented me from attaching to my pregnancy.

I didn’t even try.

With my history of recurring pregnancy loss, and this pregnancy following hot on the heels of traumatic miscarriage at 12wks, I didn’t want to try. I steeled myself for another loss and got on with my life. I drove to Nova Scotia with my childhood best friend, her two boys and my three boys (all in one awesome Suburban, I will add) for my brother’s memorial service and to spend some time with my parents.

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4 AM has been creeping up on me.

4 AM– too bright to pretend it is nighttime, but my body is too tired to get up.

4 AM is when my brain kicks into overdrive: planning, pondering, wondering, worrying. 4 AM is when I’m reminded that my depression is right there, over my right shoulder, waiting for that weak moment, waiting for the opportunity to squeeze through a crack in the wall of my self-esteem.

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I like to do a “year in review” every January for the year that went before. This year I have been struggling with it.

December is a hard month for me for many reasons — busy, emotionally-charged, and a minefield of “mother guilt”. My daily struggle with the Depression Devil sitting on my shoulder makes December an uphill battle at best. Many years I have crashed and burned under the stress.


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There’s a room in my house that used to be my sanctuary. A quiet place with a comfy couch for losing myself in a book, with room for my craft supplies, a computer, my shelves of fabrics and sewing ephemera. Most importantly, it was the one place in our house I had no obligation of sharing with anyone else — not my kids, not my husband. The only other time it was used was as a guest room when family visited from out of town. Looking into this room was like glimpsing inside my head.

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