well, shit.

Rule your mind 

or it will rule you.

Buddha

. . .

The world feels so heavy right now. I don't know how to shake it, how to set it down. I'm waiting for the fog to lift, but I have a feeling the only way out is through: Can't go over it, can't go under it, we'll have to go through it.

I kind of hate that.

So I lose myself in journals and dreams and puddles of tears, clinging to a hint of possibility and relief. In public I attempt to "fake it until I feel it." I'm good at the first part, but the feelings rarely follow.

I read about a study the other day that said most people who were diagnosed with depression as children are probably actually bipolar. I was ten.

A year or so after my diagnosis, when the fog started lifting, I remember the psychologist telling me to be careful, that I'd find myself missing the depression at times. It had defined my identity and way of being for so long, and now I had to figure out who I was without that old, destructive friend.

Until now, I pretty much thought my depression was over and done and under control. It would come back and try to set up camp every now and then, but I could recognize it. After a bit of polite resistance, I'd finally tell it to pack up and leave, locking the door behind it.

(Source)

But pregnancy hormones are something new, and they seem to have left a window wide open. And it's hard, and I'm scared. I am struggling, and I'm trying to believe that this does not make me "less than" -- that having depression does not dictate who I am at my core. It doesn't mean I'm a horrible mother or teacher or person. It is separate from who and what I am. It is an ILLNESS, not an identity.

So onward, trusting that, eventually, I'll find the light again.

meanwhile

Mary Oliver

WILD GEESE

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

--

I've been going through a little something. Due in part, I think, to the transition back to work, but also just patterns and tendencies in my own life. I still want to write our birth story. (I still want to send out Caleb's birth announcements, which were supposed to be Christmas cards, too.) 

But not yet. Not today.

It was reassuring to read an old post on Cup of Jo today, where I was reminded of the poem above. One foot in front of the other. . . On you go.

very merry

Hope you had a wonderful Christmas! (And Hannukah... and Thanksgiving... It's been awhile.)

Baby Caleb's first Christmas was a success, in that we survived and were utterly spoiled. Now we get to go back to the ordinary (or establishing our ordinary, anyway), and I'm so ready for it. Time at home enjoying the new year with this new baby is all I really want anyway. In fact, he's all I've ever really wanted. Soaked in love, straight from the source. My heart can hardly take it.

two days before delivery

On Sunday, November 3, my mom took me to the hospital to be checked by the midwife on call. I thought my water might've broken in the middle of the night. (Nope. Turns out I wet the bed - first instance of incontinence for the entire pregnancy, and the only one I can remember in my entire life! Glamorous, ain't it?) 

An hour of fetal monitoring and an internal exam showed all was well. The midwife decided to send me for an ultrasound anyway, just to make extra sure baby was OK in there as I approached 41 weeks. Once again, everything pointed to him being safe, healthy, and satisfied. My mom and I went for a celebratory breakfast, and I was finally able to really relax, knowing our guy would come when he was ready. In the meantime he was more than fine.

After breakfast, my mom dropped me off at one of my favorite places on Earth, and Andy left work early to come meet me. It was amazing to just walk and talk together, knowing we were in the last days of our twosome status. While I can't say all of pregnancy has been as glowing and serene as the photo above (taken by Andy as the sun was starting to set), in that moment I truly was at peace. Ready to meet our son, yes, but finally content in the waiting place.

He was born two days later, and it was the best, most transformative and miraculous experience of my life. More on that to come, eventually... x