I’m tired. Tired of explaining why things are so hard. Tired of feeling stuck on a loop. Tired of the unknown. Tired of my body failing us. Tired of pain. I’m just so fucking tired.
I’m irritable, I’m fed up of people saying stupid shit to me, shit they don’t of course even know, is stupid – because how can anyone be expected to know what the right thing to say is, when I don’t even know? I’m just tired of all of it. I’m tired of feeling like I have to fight to have questions answered. I’m tired of having my situation dismissed or compared to that of so many others. I’m tired of feeling like I’m broken.
I have maintained the pretence that I’m not depressed throughout this pregnancy, because I don’t want to take more medication, it’s the first thing anyone says when I complain of low mood. Do you need to go back on your antidepressants? – and I feel like saying, please fuck off.
Because I know what depression feels like, and whilst I do feel very low many days, I also have a list of reasons as long as my arm as to why that is and a pill, unless it’s one that reignites my ability to walk, or makes me promises of a healthy baby isn’t going to change that at the moment.
So far I still feel like I have some grip on my mood and reality. However low I feel, I don’t feel like I’m fully depressed yet, but maybe I am and I’m in denial, who knows. I have gotten this far though and I can see it through until you’re born. We will then reassess my mental capacity, once we have a better understanding of my physical abilities.
I also feel like I’m becoming a social outcast – I can maintain a level of strength and resilience as long as I don’t have to talk to anyone. When I speak to people I feel like I either have to explain all the whys and what ifs or I have to appear strong and excited, whilst really feeling neither.
Feeling like I can’t hide myself wincing in pain, like I can’t hide the fact that I am in uncontrollable pain, every single day. Even before you existed I had to navigate a social life around pain and bad days, now I’m starting to feel as though I am incapable of a social life at all, where are the good days? Good hours pass by too quickly only to be met by flare ups of more uncontrollable pain. Most of my friends are amazing, they want to help and include me, they care, they check in, but I still feel like I am bringing the vibe down at every conversation. Like I’m just that person that people would rather avoid. I know I’m probably overthinking it, as you’ll learn, I do this a lot. It’s a work in progress.
We haven’t got long left – so it is exciting in lots of ways, but fear overrides. I don’t know what to expect this time despite having done this before. When I was pregnant with your sister the excitement was more pronounced because the outcome was completely unknown. This time the worry overtakes the excitement because we know how bad it can get. A pessimistic view I know, but in my head it’s also a realistic one. It’s a self preservation tactic, if I expect the worst I’ll be happy when better happens.
I’ve learned some things about you recently that do make me smile. Things like you hate me lying on my right side even though it’s the one I find most comfortable. You kick and kick and kick until I turn back. You don’t like loud noises. Your sister dropped a dumbbell the other day and you jumped with such force I thought you would jump right out of my body. You’re not bothered about baths even though everyone says babies go crazy in the water, neither you or your sister did. You protest after I indulge in too much sugar and you push back now when any one of us prod my bump.
I nearly didn’t write this, this week. It’s maternal mental health awareness week and my feeds are full of recovery stories, whilst I don’t feel like we are any closer to recovery. I know I will recover mentally, because I’ve been in much darker places than this before, but will I ever recover physically? Trauma, whether to the body or the mind comes with very real physical implications that filter into the everyday.
Mourning your old life is a daily battle when it comes to chronic illness and it’s why I find words of optimism so hollow, however well intended.
Still we move through the days, bringing us closer to you, and we hope that one day in the not so distant future these down days will be memories easily forgotten and better ones will replace them.
You could be here in a matter of weeks and I know I have to be strong for you, so I’ll keep fighting.
Baby Cullen number 2. Can’t wait to meet you. ❤️