Hello Antepartum Depression

Is there such a thing as pre-partum depression? Or I guess it would just be partum depression? Because it's 4am and I've been laying here for an hour realizing that I have not felt any good for an extremely long time.

I've stopped blogging lately, because all I can really think to blog about is how hard this pregnancy is, but I'm pretty sure most people either don't understand that, don't buy it, are sick of hearing it, or are judging me for it. 

Add to that a month of pregnancy complications that are beating the shit out of me (and Hubby) and then ask us if we'd ever do this again...

So I stay silent. 

And it eats me alive.

Somehow I'm supposed to go into labour/delivery/newborn/parenthood mode on this remarkably *depleated* capacity. How the fuck am I supposed to do that?  Everyone keeps saying "the first three months are hell."  What am I supposed to do with that information? I apparently can't handle the 9 months prior to the three-month hell and you want me to raise a child on top of it?  My body and mind are clearly not strong enough to grow the human, let alone be its mother. 

At this point, I feel like the only thing I have to cling to is the possibility of upcoming *change*.  I already adore this little Fraggle more than anything and I really just need her to be OUT of my body. I need to go for a bike ride. I need to roll over onto my stomach. I need to pick something up off the floor. I need to hug her and soothe her and call her by name. 

But I can't do any of that. So instead I face every day like a marathon and try to find any single solitary little source of stability that provides any small fraction of peace. 

But I'm running out of sources...


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Updated

Elle (below) shared this link with me.

The Beast Known As Antepartum Depression - By Allison Zapata

Although my situation hasn't gotten as bad as it can for others (yet), I apparently am experiencing what's called Antepartum Depression.  I wouldn't be so quick to self-diagnose if I didn't already have a propensity for Depression in the first place.  It's been a slow build-up over time, magnified by recent complications and doctors orders to stay still all the time - the Stir Crazy has added to the already-existing Crazy and I'm running out of power to overcome.

But having a name for it helps, and knowing there are some women out there who understand and who are maybe not judging me helps too.  I also have a therapist that will get me through and an understanding and supportive Hubby who *always* makes me feel unconditionally loved.  And then there's hope - hope that when this adorable little darling arrives I will find some form of peace... new stressors, sure, but hopefully some new strength as well.

Our love story will freak your freak

Hey look.  I'm blogging.  Weird, eh?

I can't put my finger on why it's been so long, necessarily, other than the fact that I'm now 8 months pregnant and it has not been the easiest thing I've ever done - to say the least.

But something funny happened today that made me and Hubby laugh, which is nice because if I'm honest with myself, laughter hasn't been as prominent in my daily life as it once was - another symptom of pregnancy, I suspect.  So laughing out loud today, shaking this giant belly of mine, felt, well, pretty damn good.

We went to Hometown for a wedding this weekend.  Not just any wedding, but my best friend's wedding.  My best friend who is so sweet, and so considerate, and so happy with her new husband that I have been devastated - and I mean devastated - that I haven't been able to be the perfect maid of honour.  The effort and emotional energy that growing a baby requires has unfortunately taken away from my capacity as best friend.  I've done my best, which in my eyes it isn't good enough.  In fact, I almost couldn't even be there, so at least I accomplished that much, right?

So.  Hubby and I drove to Hometown, enjoyed the wedding, and then made our way to our hotel for some much needed rest.  Given the emotional disaster I had become throughout the course of the day, a two-hour drive home late last night stopped being an option.

I felt a bit better this morning.  We packed up our stuff (poor Hubby carrying my 16 heavy bags) and walked (in my case, waddled) to the lobby to check out.

When I came around the corner I immediately recognized the girl behind the counter.

"Annie!"

Annie went to school with me.  In fifth grade.  And in case you haven't heard the story a million times before, not only did she go to school with me, but Hubby too.  Yes, Hubby and I went to school together in fifth grade, and every grade after that until we started dating at 16, married at 25, and are now in the process of growing a tiny human at 29.

Annie recognized me too, and quickly noticed how fat I am - but that's not the funny part.  She looked at me, and then Hubby came around the corner.  Annie, like every other girl in our class (including me), had a huge crush on Hubby.  She looked at him, recognized him right away, exclaimed his name, and then:

"...wait..."

*eyes to me, eyes to Hubby, eyes back to me*

And then?  Then came the most hilarious confused and surprised facial expression I've ever witnessed.

See, Annie is apparently the one person in Hometown that I haven't actually seen since we were about 12 years old, and it seems she wasn't familiar with the adorable Hubby-Wifey Love Story.

It's as if she was in the twilight zone.  We freaked her freak.  The look on her face said "Whoa. What year is this? Am I on shrooms?"

I laughed. "Yep.  We're married."

She laughed "And you're pregnant!"

We chatted for a minute, left the hotel, and then laughed for about 20 minutes.

This is Hometown; this is my remarkable history with this wonderful husband of mine.  And I adore it.