Everything seems so screwed up. My head is spinning in a million different directions. I’m constantly thinking about the things I’ve done wrong.
I’ve had 3 miscarriages. I feel like they’re forgotten. But to me, they will never be forgotten. They weren’t embryos or fetuses. Even at 6 weeks, they were my babies. I never saw them on the ultrasound screen. I never heard their heartbeat on the doppler. I never got to feel them move. But, they were mine, and they were taken from me.
I’ve been fired twice. Laid off, let go, fired…it all means the same thing. I haven’t had a job longer than 2 years. Not only that, but this time around, I’ve been unemployed for over a year now. So not only do I not have a job, but apparently I’m not good enough for any of the thousand or so that I’ve applied for.
When I was on hospital bedrest I prayed every day to go into labor. Lexi was born 4 weeks early and spent 9 days in the NICU. I will never forgive myself for putting her through that. Because I was so selfish to not want to be in the hospital anymore, I prayed for her to come early. She spent 9 days in the NICU, being poked and prodded, tubes in her nose and mouth, IV’s in her arms.
I’m not the mom that I should be We tried for so long to have a baby. Once we brought Lexi home I couldn’t have been happier. But, then she got colic. She cried all the time and I didn’t know what to do for her. I couldn’t help her to feel better. Not just that, but it made me angry. It made me angry to listen to her cry all the time. It made me angry that I couldn’t put her down for 5 minutes to use the restroom or brush my teeth. I still get angry when she throws fits. My husband has told me so many times that I need to wake up and realize what I’m doing. It hurts for people to encenuate that I don’t love her. Because I do love her. I love her with every single part of me. I pray for her night and day. I whisper “never leave me” in her ear every night as I lay her in bed, because I know I can’t go on without her. But, I know I’m not the best mom.
I suffer from depression. And it has taken over my life. It is a day to day battle that I fight. And I fight it alone. If I’m allowed to find a babysitter for Lexi and lay in bed all day, that is Jacob enabling me. The other option is to fight through the day…feeling like a Zombie and praying for the day to be over. I hate that I can’t overcome this. I hate that I have to take medication and see therapists.
I feel like every day is a battle. I have to wake up and put on a mask. Make everyone believe that everything is normal and perfect. Fight my demons alone. Once everyone else has gone to bed. Then I can sit and think and write and cry. Because if you do that during the day you might be having another breakdown. If you ask for help, you never know what people are going to say. Sure, everyone tells you they love you and that they’ll do anything for you. But, when it comes down to it, they are going to gossip about you behind your back just like everyone else.
Depression is real. And it’s hard. And the hardest part is that I fight alone. What do people want me to say when they call to ask how I’m doing? They want a short, easy, “I’m doing fine.” Nobody wants to hear about how I wanted to pull the covers over my head and lay in bed all day. Nobody wants to hear about how I feel like I’m never going to get better.
So tonight, I’ll cry myself to sleep thinking about all the things I should have done better. I’ll wake up tomorrow, put on my mask, and be danielle…wife and mom.