I’m in a tough season right now. Pregnancy is tough for me. It’s really, really tough actually. The physical part is challenging, yes. The throwing up and the aches and the weight gain aren’t fun, but the part that just rocks me to my core is the mental stuff. It’s the change within my heart and soul that tortures me. I have a complete personality change. I become the worst possible version of myself and I spend a lot of time feeling like complete crap about it. It’s a cycle: I am a crappy person and then I have a lot of guilt about being a crappy person which (surprisingly) makes me an even crappier person.
I’ve been wondering lately if I’m just a big, fat cry baby. I mean, I know I am not the only pregnant person who ever lived, obviously. And so surely other pregnant people must feel this way. They must feel the complete personality change. They must feel the depression. They must feel sad and overwhelmed. They must desperately want a margarita and to move to a hotel far, far away from the husbands and children they love so much. They must, right? My friends say yes. They say what I’m feeling is normal, but I don’t believe them.
I just cannot believe that other people feel this way and manage to keep their mouths closed. How? How do you guys feel this despair and stay silent? I don’t understand. That does not compute for me.
I know full well that I sound incredibly dramatic. I know there are a million things in this world worse than pregnancy. Pregnancy isn’t even a bad thing, I know that. It’s a great thing. It’s a blessing. And I know that a lot of people pray daily for this gift that makes me miserable. I know that, I do. But, when I am in the trenches and I am drowning and I am sad and I miss the old, happy, fun me I do not care about those people– and that’s the terrible truth.
I missed mass this past weekend. Just completely forgot and did not go to church. I have never done that. My relationship with God fluctuates. Sometimes we are passionately in love and sometimes I have to force myself to even talk to Him. It’s a hot and cold thing. He’s constant and I am sometimes hot and I am sometimes cold. In our ever changing relationship, Sundays have been a constant and now I’ve managed to screw even that up.
And yet, in a time where I am so lost–so very, very lost, His grace is overflowing. It surrounds me, I only need to open my eyes and look around.
He surrounds me in His grace when a friend and her kids show up at my house with a king cake and an invitation to get out of the house and play. He shows me His mercy when I am having a terrible day and I give myself permission to do what I never do: be irresponsible and ask another teacher to take my CCD class. He shows me His love through a husband who showers me with kindness, gratitude and foot rubs. He reminds me to be grateful when I hear the 6 year old reading books to the baby. And, He reminds me that all of this crap–all of this suck– has a purpose when I hear the loud thumping of our fourth baby’s healthy heartbeat.
In a time when I am so hot and cold I am grateful that He is a constant. I am grateful that He uses my friends and family to shower me in His love. In a time when I can barely muster a smile, I am grateful that He understands and that He loves me anyway.