Saturday, July 4, 2015


     Well, I guess it is about time for a little update on how I am doing, and since there are actually things to report. But first, I want to link to a link up that my friend Katherine hosted about a month ago, about maternal depression. I confess that I haven't read all of the contributions yet, but the ones I have read have helped me to accept my own struggle, and hopefully they will help you as well. 
Hope For The Future:  A Blog Hop on Post-Partum Depression and Anxiet
     Ok, so I decided to sit and read them. A Knotted Life pretty much describes my struggles, though it's only been a year instead of 5. And reading the others nearly made me cry, too, because I know what it's like, and as much as I wish I could say I am better, it isn't true. 
     Roughly three weeks ago I had an absolutely fantastic week. It was the best week I have had in a really, really long time. And the next week, it was back. That Wednesday, I found myself mired in the darkness, the feeling of failure, the desire to leave, because everyone would be better off with an absent wife and mother, instead of an angry depressed one. The return of the depression coincided with the return of a few first trimester issues, like an over sensitivity to sugar, and feeling like being sick if I waited to long to eat but not knowing what to eat to get rid of the nausea. I am pretty much convinced much of my depression is related to hormones. 
     Aside from the depression issues, this pregnancy has been my best so far. The idea of being pregnant didn't bother me much when we found out, and I've been really ok with it mentally, which is more than I can say for Juanito's, and even some of Jose's. I haven't been stressing about eating or not eating, because both boys were absolutely fine when they were born, and stressing about counting calories and making sure I was eating enough only added unnecessary stress. 7 lbs 10 oz and 8 lbs 10 oz are decent weights for babies, and considering we are measuring the way we ought, I'm expecting no less from Mary.
     Physically, this pregnancy has in many ways been better than the others as well. I haven't gained much weight yet, and the boys keep me moving enough that I at least look like I'm pretty fit, even if I might not be all that fit in actuality. Oftentimes I almost forget that I am pregnant, because I haven't been feeling her as much as I felt the boys, due to the placenta being located in front instead of the back. I'm not complaining about that, considering how uncomfortable it often feels to have little sharp knees and elbows poking around inside you. 
     Unfortunately, though, my pelvis feels like it is going to split in two whenever I try to roll over in bed. Extremely painful. And...there are these. Varicose veins. The faint of heart might choose this time to look away. 

No, they aren't as painful as they look, thankfully; at least not when I'm up and about. The most painful time is when I get out of bed in the morning and I can feel the blood pooling in them. Very unpleasant. They also occur in other more, um, sensitive areas in 10% of women, which I happen to be a part of. Yay me. 
     The fact that my legs look like they have taken a beating from a baseball bat doesn't really bother me much. The one in the top middle even looked kinda pretty, when it first showed up. No, what upsets me is the damage to my body they represent. Permanent vascular damage. Damage that will only become worse and more pronounced with each subsequent pregnancy. Damage which could lead to blood clots and ulcers. Damage. Irreparable brokenness is a new thing for my body. And I nearly cry every night as I get ready for bed because of it. Only 49 more days, then postpartum recovery. I am so ready to not be pregnant right now. 

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