In yesterday’s blog, Slow Your Breath Down, I gave you a brief snippet of what a hormonal pregnancy meltdown looked like. Today I’d like to elaborate on the finer details of that meltdown and provide more context, including the aftermath.
Here’s the deal: On Monday night, Brian and I walked Esther around the block while I spent the majority of our excursion communicating the stress that I felt regarding these next two weeks. You see, until Brian finishes mudding, sanding, painting, etc. the nursery, I cannot put away any of our baby shower goodies (which are presently forming the Isle of Bennett in my living room). It’s imperative that I get these things put away because my little bro and sis are coming to spend this weekend with us. Equally urgent is the need to finish staining the deck as next weekend we’re hosting a bridal shower for my chipped-mug friend, Sherri.
I began to calculate how many days off Brian had left, how many of those would be spent with my siblings, the odds of rain affecting the deck staining, the time that I’d have left to tidy and whether or not I’d even have the energy to do it considering the fact that I have less time to rest. Suffice it to say that while I’m looking forward to both occasions, these two weeks feel like crunch time.
Brian assured me that I could trust him; he’d take care of it.
THAT is why I couldn’t handle the phone call after work on the following day. Brian was carefully proposing another project to work on this week. Though, no, he wasn’t insisting on it, the fact that my already frazzled mind was having to consider an additional deduction of productive hours when there was already so much to do… Well, my brain was on overload.
No. Not one more thing. I can’t handle one more thing. Nothing can change. No more variables! No more new decisions. Stay the course. We need to stay the course. We need to have a plan for the next three months and no new plans can be introduced to the existing plan. I cannot handle one more new thing in addition to what we’re trying to achieve. Nothing changes. Nothing. No new information can enter my head. No more new information from here to Bennett.
But then the Subway thing happened.
So out of spite, anxiety and desperation, I figured I’d teach everyone a lesson by eating the entire 12 inch sub. I reasoned to myself, Normally six inches is enough, but I’m just going to be hungry again in two hours, so I might as well eat the whole thing now.
This is faulty logic. While, yes, I do get hungry more frequently, my stomach is still only so big. The only person who ended being taught a valuable lesson that evening was me as I slumped over the couch in utter discomfort and misery.
Feeling so gross, I decided that Cranky Square Piece needed an early bedtime and passed out in the living room. When I awoke, the house was empty and I knew that Brian was having dinner next door with a friend. As I took myself to bed, it dawned on me that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep again. I tossed and I turned; but tossing and turning doesn’t turn the brain off.
I, having been wretched to Brian that evening, picked up the phone and called my husband, pathetically whining for help.
Me, “Brian, are you still having dinner with Dave?”
Brian, “Yeah. Why? Do you need something? What do you need? Do you need me to come over there?”
Me, “It’s just… I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Christmas trees… and I can’t stop thinking about words that aren’t pronounced they way that they’re spelled…”
This is not a joke. While I was trying to sleep, my brain kept flashing a stream of words, but then would add and subtract certain letters, leaving me in a state of frustration over the lack of consistency in the English language.
…Glare, flare, share, care, are… wait, ARE? Why isn’t it pronounced AIR? Air, fair, flair, bear… wait, BEAR? Why isn’t it spelled bair since it rhymes with fair? Or BARE since it rhymes with glare? Oh, there is a bare, but it means something else. Bear, ear. EAR?! Why isn’t ear pronounced ERR, based on bear? But, well, there is fear and spear and dear… except there’s also deer… and beer… which rhymes with ear; but ear is pronounced air if there’s a “b” in front of it making bear…
You see why I needed Brian? I was losing my mind. I don’t know how long it took him to get back to the house, but when he did, I had somehow managed to fall asleep. Unfortunately, this did not stop him from waking me up and reminding me of why I couldn’t sleep in the first place.
Brian, “So you can’t stop thinking about Christmas trees?”
Me, Gah! How could someone give away a Christmas tree not knowing if it had white or multi-colored lights?!
The moral of the story is this: Pregnancy mood swings should not be compared to a pendulum. That’s too kind. That assumes that there are only two extremes in which to operate. On the contrary, in approximately 24 hours, I experienced complete calm, peace, and happiness, then anger, then defiance, then despair, then bat-crazy-lunacy, then sadness, shame and embarrassment. That, friends, is no pendulum. No, it’s more like a fire torch being twirled around by some colorful, hippy gypsies, tossed into the sky and then dangerously swung to and fro for the audience to admire.
We welcome all prayers for Brian.