An apology and a request.

I'm really good at hiding my emotions. It's a gift, really, received from my dad's side of the family. Well, a gift and a curse, depending on who you're talking to. Don't show them your weakness. It could be used against you later in life. Pretend like everything is just fine, and eventually it will be.

It has been brought to my attention that this pregnancy has diminished my patience and my vocal inhibitions to almost nothing. That means that I say what I'm thinking as soon as I'm thinking it and, as bad as that already is, the things I'm saying aren't necessarily the nicest things I could come up with. And that means I have hurt some people's feelings in the last few months. Some I knew I had hurt immediately after opening my mouth; others I found out about after comments were made when I wasn't around. I can't really say which is more horrifying, because they both sting and make me incredibly ashamed of myself. And there's a part of me that wants to say, "Well, it's the truth; maybe you should just get thicker skin." And that, of course, is the root of the problem in the first place - my lack of ... sympathy? ... patience? ... something.

When I look back at this year, all I can think is one word -- terrible. Yes, yes, I know, I'm bringing life into the world, I know. It's a gift, and one for which I am so grateful that it brings me to tears. All I can think is that this baby is going to be a much-needed respite of joy in the midst of a pretty crappy time. But the realist in me is trying hard not to get too excited, because that's a lot of pressure to put on a baby. No one -- especially not a baby -- should be expected to turn things right again. That's something on the Lord and time can do.

Things since April have just been ... wrong. Compounding the sickness with a deeper depression than I've had in years and other issues of which I have absolutely no control whatsoever, and the whole year just seems like a colossal disaster. It wasn't, of course, but that's what it feels like now. And I have internalized everything in ways I thought I had resolved. If I tried to explain it all to you, I can almost guarantee you would ask me to stop talking, or at least look really uncomfortable and have nothing to say other than, "Wow. I'm sorry," because that has been the reaction of almost everyone I have tried to talk to about it. I feel like an idiot even saying it all out loud because it sounds so amazingly absurd. So I don't talk about it much. It's easier, really, and less stressful for those not involved.

But then... I end up saying something rude to someone who doesn't deserve it. Because I have no patience whatsoever for things that, at that specific moment, seem trivial to my twisted, distracted mind. It's like there's no more room to be polite. Which is odd, because I feel like most of the time I am polite to a fault. It's just been a rough year, and I don't know what else to say about it. Some of it is getting better, and some of it is permanently damaged, and I have no idea what the future holds. But all of it is enough to bring me to my knees on a daily basis, and can make me break down sobbing at any time, anywhere. And it has.

I fully realize that this is not an excuse for my behavior. But it is a reason. And if you are one of the people to whom I have been rude, I am sincerely sorry. I hope you'll forgive me. But I also ask that you give me a little bit of wiggle room. There is so much going on in my head this year that I don't have room to think about your feelings, and I am sorry for that, too. I will do my best not to put my problems on you in the future. And maybe, just maybe, having this baby will give me another gift -- the gift of my patience back, if nothing else.

And that's all I have to say about that.

And 6 weeks later

I'm halfway back into the land of the living. Today I was alone with Elijah for a total of two hours, and I changed my first dirty diaper in 6 weeks. There was some gagging and a lot of breath-holding, but we both survived. I hoping that next week will prove even more productive.

I was in bed for a total of 6 weeks and 2 days, and it's just been in the past few that I've been up and moving for more than a few minutes at a time. Yesterday I was up for the entire day -- and then went to bed at 7. But hey, you gotta start somewhere. I was officially 12 weeks pregnant on Sunday (I had another ultrasound that bumped my due date to December 4th), so we're hoping the first trimester's troubles are on their way out.

Today I am grateful for:
beautiful, beautiful babies (especially ones named Julia Jean who are born to my cousins)
an end in sight
a healthy 20(!)-month-old
the most patient husband a deliriously ill woman can ask for
modern medicine
and, maybe most passionately, my in-laws

I cannot even express how grateful I am to my in-laws for taking care of Elijah for the past six weeks. My mother-in-law, especially, has sacrificed so much time to come to my home, do laundry and dishes, change diapers, and brought me all sorts of random food, from Sonic vanilla Cokes (my most intense craving for this pregnancy) to Italian ices to crackers of all varieties. I start to cry just thinking about how I have no way to adequately thank her for everything she's done for me.

So how do you thank someone for that? Any ideas are welcome. And don't say just having her grandbaby is all the thanks she needs... I would've done that anyway. I need something else.