I decided to resurrect Mommy-Wise Monday - because there's such amazing beauty and wisdom that comes from being a mom. So, without further ado, my little story about becoming a wiser mom.
I was drowning.
Drowning in a way I thought nobody would or could understand.
Seven months pregnant with our third child, with two boys, ages 3 and 1, I was at a crazy point of exhaustion. Understandably so.
But it wasn't just that. I wish it were just aches and pains and tiredness from pregnancy that made me feel like I couldn't mother my boys. It was more.
Anxiety plagued me day and night. I had gone to bed every night for seven months feeling anxious, for no apparent reason. During the day I would agonize over every detail of life, and feel like my own walls were going to collapse in on me. I would be irritable to my husband. I didn't want his touch. I was cold. I would yell at the kids for things that normally wouldn't phase me. Make them feel worthless for spilling milk, or wearing their shoes a little further than the doormat.
"What is wrong with me?"
I asked myself that every day.
Eventually it came to pass that I had yelled at the kids almost all day. Joseph came home and I froze him out, yelling that I had no idea why I felt this way. I laid in bed and I wanted to die.
Why? My other pregnancies had been similar - I was a little more high-strung, a little more irritable and cold, but nothing like this. Each night I went to bed thinking the world was going to end tomorrow.
I picked up the phone some days to call a friend... then I hung it up, thinking, "I'm way too depressing to be around." The best I could do for social ventures was to make it to my mom's group, where my oldest was babysat while I visited with other moms and only had my littlest to deal with. Each week I'd want to ask a friend to talk - and each week I'd fail at the conversation.
It turns out, upon talking to my doctor, that I may have sensitivity to progesterone, the hormone needed for pregnancy. Spikes in progesterone can also cause PMS, of which I've been a long-time sufferer. I didn't know this until the pregnancy was over, and the guilt I feel over the time I spent yelling at the boys and freezing out Joseph still bothers me.
But what is the lesson here? Well, here's the thing - I isolated myself in my misery. I will always wonder what would have happened if I'd gone to my doctor, told my midwives how I was feeling or even just called a friend.
When my boys are having trouble, whether its playing with blocks or reaching the tap to wash their hands, they don't let their pride get in the way of saying, "I'm vulnerable, and I need someone stronger or bigger or smarter to help me."
Sometimes even moms need someone. Some help. What I see in my boys, in that willingness to ask, is what I'd like a little more of.
Most importantly, I know I need to be asking the Biggest, and Strongest and Smartest - because He can definitely handle my problems when I can't.
Maybe you've already blogged it. Send me a link, lets do an interview or guest post. I'm all ears.