20w 0d (Ante Partum)

It's very hard to tell the difference between depression and pregnancy hormones. Both can make you cry hysterically and both makes me not want to get out of bed for days on end. It's just something has changed recently. Ever since I started thinking about taking medical leave, I've realized how truly depressed I am.

I thought it was because I was so sick in my first trimester. I would go to work, come home, clutch my stomach, lie in bed, and go to sleep. Rinse and repeat. Then my first trimester turned into my second trimester and things got a little better, even as the nausea turned into morning vomit sessions. I'm 20 weeks and I still take Zofran on a regular basis. It's just...I don't get out of bed. I'm as close to being on bed rest as someone who holds down a full time job can be. When I get home from work, the first thing I do is get into bed (sometimes after taking a bath). I parent from bed, I eat in bed, I fall asleep insanely early in bed. If Zac wants to spend time with me, he comes into my bed room and I feel unbelievably guilty about that.

I've completely isolated myself from anyone who doesn't want to text with me from my bed. Even on days when I don't feel like complete crap, I stay in bed. KGII asks if I want to go out on a Friday or Saturday night and I can feel myself looking at him like he was just taken over by a band of roving aliens. I'd rather be eaten by cockroaches than to be outside of the house and get sick, especially if I'm sick and can't leave. It's created this kind of social anxiety. It's so much easier to stay in my nice, safe bed where I have cats for company and endless paper back novels to read.

I reached out for help today and the hard part about having my history is that you can never encounter just a little bit of help. The first two things that were suggested to me were partial or full hospitalization. Only when I balked at that did they talk about finding a therapist. The hardest part, for me, about starting with a new therapist is having to cover all the crap that came before. The previous hospitalizations and the times when I felt I didn't matter. It's so much crap that it keeps me from getting the help I need, plus I have an inherent distrust of strangers that ask a lot of questions. Bonding with therapists has been a definite issue within the past two years.

So I'm back in bed. This time my adopted (gassy) cat is here with me and I'm praying he doesn't start pooping under the bed again. I see my Ob Gyn and a Maternal Fetal Psychiatrist tomorrow. If you don't hear from me for a little while, just know that I lost the hospitalization debate and I'll be back soon. I've been sicker before and I've survived more. This is just a hard patch and eventually it will get better. That's what I tell myself when the crying jags start. It will get better. It just takes time.