This pregnancy has pretty much been a breeze. Especially compared to Gavin. I mean I've got most classic scenarios of the "pregnancy syndrome"... swelling, nausea, heartburn, leg cramps, an outrageous sense of smell, and what have you. All these are minor things to overcome in the gist of life. Unfortunately, with the embark of the third trimester, and yet again a demotion of space for my poor stomach, nausea has decided to make a come back into my life. Still nothing compared to Gavin... or even what followed him. For the most part I have had almost a complete relief from sickness now for almost twelve weeks with an occasional episode every now and then, I just may have to face the fact that apparently I do not have an ironclad stomach, and just may be in fact a little more vulnerable with reacting to food and the like. However, due to the limited amount of space, a squirmy little girl, and heartburn that makes me consider running to ER, I've been getting sick about once every day at night time just as I settle down for bed. There are a lot worse things in life, but those of you who know me and know the struggle I've endured with this whole nausea plague, know the dread that arises in my heart when that grotesque sensation returns. So, I have to refocus my heart on the Lord and His promises for health and the fact that He broke the curse for me.
All that to say that with the exception of my nausea revisited [which isn't even abnormal, just annoying for me], this pregnancy has been completely normal and well very easy to expect, with the exception of these past couple weeks. I do not know what happened... if it was my hormones or Sam working more or the fact we had started potty training, but it was as if my mind got up out of my body and left me. I am a fairly level headed person, mostly do to an obscene amount of theophastics and healing in Christ. Where I have my kirks and particular ruts, I'm pretty laid back and easy going within the realms of my normalcy. I think I handle change pretty well and adjust to all sorts of transition. Now, I am no model star for anyone, I'm not THAT good... but overall I do this thing called life fairly well and enjoy it I'd say 98% of the time. These past couple weeks I have been a complete basket case. I was not expecting it and had no idea what was going on. I kept thinking wow is this what postpartum depression is like, because well if I was actually partum... I would have slapped a label on my forehead and shipped me off to the Doc. No Joke.
Both Sam and my dad [and even Sharon] could attest to the fact that I am surprisingly pretty decent about making choices over giving way to my emotions. Most the time my horrific emotional roller coasters when they've arose are much more of an internal battle than external. However, that doesn't make it any easier to handle, and unfortunately for Gavin I am pretty sure I haven't spared him the luxury of grace. Don't get me wrong, I was never to the point of dropping my kid off on the side of the road because I couldn't handle him any more, or decide to drown him in the bath tub. Thankfully I fully believe in the power of the Holy Spirit and don't hesitate to call out to Him. That doesn't make it any more scary though when I feel I have completely lost my marbles and that it really is only a matter of time before I lose control over these highly volatile emotions running rampant around my brain. It was surreal. Never have I second guessed my ability to parent, until last week. Never have I been scared to be alone with my child... that is an unfortunate confession. And definately not the mommy I want to be.
I am actually starting to feel much better, I think having Sam get a surprise day off and well the fact I've been praying like crazy over me and my son and calling Sam every spare minute I might lose my mind.... so I know he's probably been praying like crazy too. So here's hoping that it was short lived with just a week or so... and that I in fact do not get postpartum depression. Either way I will be happy to go to my doctors appointment this week, just to give him an update on all things crazy Shannon. Well and I don't think counseling will help just because it wasn't that kind of issue ... I wasn't hopeless or "depressed" in the sense of depression... more like highly volatile . . . at that rate I don't even think I would hesitate being put on medication, set aside from the miraculous power of the Holy Spirit being able to fully restore me back to normal.
I'm just thankful that I have the grace that is in my Lord, and that He helps me when I can't help myself. I praise Him that I can even recognize and ask for help. I also like that where if I was to go over the details of my day with my son I probably would be embarrassed confessing how often I raised my voice or at the decibel it rose to or the times I spanked his butt without waiting to recollect and calm myself but reacted out of anger and frustration... I am only humiliated for a second because I know the power of Jesus. That I'm human, and that my flaws only show His glory more. Not that that's the parent I want to be, I want to be the best I can be... but I am grateful that every wrong decision and choice I make He can make it right. I'm thankful I get to be healed by His blood and that goes for my children too.
So there you go. Confessions of a pregnant mommy of a two year old who shares her husband with the Army and lives 800+ miles from home. The reality of life, sometimes just isn't pretty. I'm glad I've got Heaven.
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