There I was, standing in a deserted toy aisle at the local KMart, on the phone to hubby, having my own personal meltdown. Sobbing like my heart was breaking or a dear friend had died. Out of control, ashamed and hiding, distressed and past the point of holding on.
Why? What happened? I hear you ask.
Because I couldn’t print the photos that Niamh needed for Kinder and her daycare homework, and they were already late.
Because the Bluetooth on the self-serve machines did not work, the Facebook link up wouldn’t let me type, the cables were not for an iPhone 5 (although signage about the faults would have been nice and saved me 20 minutes).
Because it took 20 FUCKING MINUTES to walk from the closest car park to the entrance of the store in my granny shuffling way. Even with the oh-so-sexy tuby grip and belly brace on.
Because I was tired from the constant trips to the loo, the constant heartburn and inability to get comfortable in bed that has occurred every night for months.
Because a trip to the chemist and KMart took almost 2 hours instead of the pre-third trimester 20 minutes.
Because Niamh had had a sooky, wilful, “I won’t do it just because you asked me to” kind of morning before going off to Kinder and it took all of my willpower not to react and stay calm.
Because I was in agony and could hardly walk.
Because I feel useless and frustrated about how little I am physically able to do now.
Because I uttered the words “I’m over it” but then was horrified at how selfish that sounded and what the alternative is.
Because I am terrified these babies are going to come early and go to NICU, much earlier than I feared.
Because I got a huge scare on the weekend when I was rushed to hospital in unending pain that felt like everything on my left side was being torn to shreds or broken.
Because I realised how naive and overconfident I have been, maybe even cocky, and its been hard having to face that.
Because I have not organised everything I need for these bubbas yet and have been reminded I am not ready (see above as to why) even though I have organised some things.
Because I am pregnant with twins and the hormones raging at this point are at heavy-duty strength.
Because I have been told to rest but I feel guilty doing it, but then feel guilty if I don’t because I don’t want to risk the twins.
Because even though they don’t mean anything by it, wouldn’t even think for a second I would take it that way, would be mortified if they knew it upset me, people have made comments that have compounded the guilt I feel having to rest. And so I push myself and then feel guilty about not taking medical advice.
Because I find it near impossible to ask for help no matter how much I know I really do need it. And when it’s offered I feel guilty (don’t ask cause I’m really not 100% sure why, although I have my suspicions).
And probably a whole lot more that I’m not even aware of on a conscious level!
Now that I’ve got it out there I feel better, not fantastic but better, and all I can do is take on the lessons I have learnt this week and move on:
I need to respect my body, listen to it and do what I am told.
I need to put the needs of the twins first.
I need to ask for help.
I need to stop feeling guilty and realise that the reason for resting is the greatest one of all.
I need to give myself a break and stop thinking I need to be perfect. It’s ok to feel crap, and complain, and share, and then move on.
Have you ever just had enough after trying to keep it altogether and positive for too long? How did you deal and move on?