(Warning: Complain-y rant ahead.)
“What is wrong with me?” That’s the question I keep asking myself, and it’s a question I want to ask my doctor … but I’m sure she’ll just laugh and say, “You’re just pregnant, that’s all!”
But really … everything I’ve read says that it’s good to keep up with exercise during pregnancy. On the Runner’s World forums, pregnant women are posting about the 10K they ran during their fourth month, or the half-marathon they kept training for even after learning they were pregnant. I got some DVDs of pregnant women doing exercises for pregnant women, and I wonder how they had the energy to even make the DVD. I barely have the energy to watch it.
I am a zombie. Walking is a hassle because I literally have to pee every 15 or 20 minutes. I certainly can’t run anymore, thanks to the fatigue and the fact that my pregnant boobs can’t deal with the pain. On the Runner’s World forums, they say to “get a good bra.” Well, I have good bras. I’ve been running for three years. I know what constitutes a good running bra. But if crossing my arms across my chest causes me to gasp in pain … I don’t know if they’re any bra out there that will make running pain-free.
But I don’t have enough energy for running anyway. I’m morning-sick in the mornings—and yes, I’m trying the Saltines and the ginger ale and sea-bands and all the suggested remedies—and then the exhaustion hits me in the early afternoon. From about 2:00 until I go to bed at night, I’m completely useless. I literally feel like I’ve taken a huge swig of Nyquil. The whole body and brain shut down.
Still, I go to the gym and get on the treadmill to walk a measly 3.6 mph. If I’m lucky, I’ll make it 1.5 miles (stopping a couple of times, of course, to go pee). When I walk on the treadmill, I have to hold on to the bars so I can put my head down and shut my eyes. I know that’s dangerous. But I literally can’t keep my eyes open, or my head up.
Then at night, I can’t sleep. That’s the worst—to be so mind-numbingly exhausted throughout the day, then not to be able to sleep at night. It doesn’t help that my house is in a shambles, as we’re having wood floors put in since the cat destroyed the carpet. The cat pee went through to the underboards, so we had to have the underboards unexpectedly replaced. Which means it took the wood-floor installers an extra day of work. And they had another job yesterday and today, which means they won’t be back until Monday. Which means Dan and I are sleeping on the couch. Our dressers are in the garage. Our living room is packed full with books and furniture from the bedrooms. There’s nowhere to sit. And once the floor is in, we’re going to need to move all this stuff back. And Dan works god-awful hours and isn’t home half the time and is getting ready to move to camp, where he’ll be for 8 weeks while I’m being pregnant and tired and cranky at home.
It’s enough to make me want to cry. Then I think, “Should I really feel this depressed? Am I justified in feeling this depressed? Or is it because I had to get off the antidepressant when I found out I was pregnant?” Always that second-guessing. Are my feelings justified by the circumstances? Or are they merely a result of my messed-up depression-prone head?
One thing I haven’t done much of since I got pregnant is write. I haven’t been writing in my journal. The only “personal” writing I’ve done has been on this blog and my other blog, A Sort of Notebook. It’s probably good that I haven’t been writing. When I’m depressed, writing tends to be a way of spiraling myself deeper into the depression. Then I get really depressed.
(several hours later …)
Well. I started writing this early this morning, then I got focused on the help standards document at work. Thank God for work. It keeps me sane. I feel much better now that I’ve created a beautiful PDF of this document. And oh, it has the loveliest of Tables of Contents!
I still feel wiped out. But at least some of the depression is lifting.