28 weeks, at Cub Lake (top photo), and surrounded by beautiful, glowing aspens in Rocky Mountain National Park
I wish I could say I felt the same in these photos as the aspens look--glowing--but I didn't. To be very honest, this entire pregnancy has been quite a struggle for me physically, mentally and emotionally. Until now I've chosen to stay mostly silent about that, which perhaps only added to the struggle. But now, as I'm writing this post at just over 33 weeks and climbing out of the depths of what I now know is prenatal anxiety and depression, I'm choosing to share some of my experience.
From the very start of my pregnancy, I'd been extremely emotional. It is no exaggeration to say that I cried daily, about almost anything--happy, sad, or otherwise--and I often felt exhausted by own feelings. I felt as if I were treading water, fighting to stay afloat in rough waters. For a long time, I figured that even though this didn't happen when I was pregnant with Isaac, that it was probably just a normal effect of surging hormones--whether because I'm having a girl this time or because this pregnancy looks very different than my last. But treading water for so long took its toll. I eventually started to feel like I couldn't do it anymore; I just wanted the pregnancy to be over, and I started to sink. Things really started to spiral out of control, then. I could no longer cope with any hardship, I felt very isolated, even as I was surrounded by family, and I spent hours at night awake and anxious, with intrusive thoughts repeating over and over again. I had some very dark, sleep-deprived weeks.
Finally, when things were bad enough, I let down my guard. I opened my dark, difficult world to some of those closest to me, revealing myself and admitting I couldn't continue on this path alone. It was around this time in my pregnancy--28 weeks--that I finally sought out help. Much too late, but just in time.
It's been about five weeks now, and though it's been a long, hard road, I'm happy to say things are improving. I've worked through a lot of emotional shit, and I'm starting to feel better, finally looking forward to the birth of our baby girl (which, until this point, was merely a distant thought I rarely paid any attention to, except to worry). I daresay I'm finally enjoying this pregnancy and able to see beyond it without fear. I hope Jenevieve, my doula, is right when she says I'm going to rock this birth because I've already done so much work to open and allow myself to be vulnerable. I know labor and birth is a wild ride, but, having gone through this, I feel much more prepared for what may come.
It is my hope that sharing this will help me continue on my path to being happy and healthy again, and perhaps help someone else along the way, who might feel as alone as I did. This is not a battle to fight by yourself. I am so grateful for my support crew--my husband, my sister, my amazing doulas and midwife, the Postpartum Wellness Center, and many more. Friends and family who were there for me, who continue to check in with me. Thank you.
From the very start of my pregnancy, I'd been extremely emotional. It is no exaggeration to say that I cried daily, about almost anything--happy, sad, or otherwise--and I often felt exhausted by own feelings. I felt as if I were treading water, fighting to stay afloat in rough waters. For a long time, I figured that even though this didn't happen when I was pregnant with Isaac, that it was probably just a normal effect of surging hormones--whether because I'm having a girl this time or because this pregnancy looks very different than my last. But treading water for so long took its toll. I eventually started to feel like I couldn't do it anymore; I just wanted the pregnancy to be over, and I started to sink. Things really started to spiral out of control, then. I could no longer cope with any hardship, I felt very isolated, even as I was surrounded by family, and I spent hours at night awake and anxious, with intrusive thoughts repeating over and over again. I had some very dark, sleep-deprived weeks.
Finally, when things were bad enough, I let down my guard. I opened my dark, difficult world to some of those closest to me, revealing myself and admitting I couldn't continue on this path alone. It was around this time in my pregnancy--28 weeks--that I finally sought out help. Much too late, but just in time.
It's been about five weeks now, and though it's been a long, hard road, I'm happy to say things are improving. I've worked through a lot of emotional shit, and I'm starting to feel better, finally looking forward to the birth of our baby girl (which, until this point, was merely a distant thought I rarely paid any attention to, except to worry). I daresay I'm finally enjoying this pregnancy and able to see beyond it without fear. I hope Jenevieve, my doula, is right when she says I'm going to rock this birth because I've already done so much work to open and allow myself to be vulnerable. I know labor and birth is a wild ride, but, having gone through this, I feel much more prepared for what may come.
It is my hope that sharing this will help me continue on my path to being happy and healthy again, and perhaps help someone else along the way, who might feel as alone as I did. This is not a battle to fight by yourself. I am so grateful for my support crew--my husband, my sister, my amazing doulas and midwife, the Postpartum Wellness Center, and many more. Friends and family who were there for me, who continue to check in with me. Thank you.
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