To say the last two weeks have been hard would be an understatement. I have cried, slept, and been awake more in the last 13 days than I feel like ever. I’ve been crying for good reason, and crying for no good reason. Hormones are a bitch, people. And mine are all over the effing place. People who know me are aware that I’m a pretty solid person. I don’t tend to cry easily, or let things get to me too much. However, when my facade gets even the smallest fissure, the rest of me tends to melt away. I get anxious. Depressed. I can fall apart.

This me has only been around a few times. Like, a couple months after I had Abby. Then when my anxiety peaked last summer. And now.

I hate this me. I know I have no control over my emotions and me without control is like a malt without hot fudge. It just. doesn’t. work.

I’ve had a rough couple of nights. Last night I had a class A panic attack, intensified by worrying about the new strain of Norovirus (have you read about this?!). I was completely gone. But Josh, the awesome husband that he is, told me to back away from the internet, lay down in bed and let him take care of Abby and everything else. I cried (of course, right now it’s my only reaction to anything) and felt so damn grateful to have such a thoughtful husband.

Tonight wasn’t much different. Abby continued her newest trick of hating everything we’ve ever offered her to eat, and flat out refused both pizza and oatmeal. What’s frustrating is that she’ll eat pretty much anything anyone else gives her – at school or at her grandparents house. For us? AS IF. We struggled and fought with her for 45 minutes about eating until she decided she would drink milk and snuggle with me instead, which I allowed. Then bath time turned into struggle number 2, more tears, more acting out. Part of me knows she’s sensing my emotions and reacting to them, and unfortunately I have little to no patience these days. She shaped up enough when she got out of the tub, but cried more during teeth brushing. I’d had enough, and Josh sensed it. He stepped in and took over. Which again, made me cry.

I feel horrible for being this way. For what I feel like is rubbing off on my daughter, for feeling useless, even though I really do feel like I’m okay most of the time. I know this is my hormones wreaking havoc on my psyche, but not being able to control any of it is sending me over the edge.

Through it all though is Josh. Being my rock. Standing by my side when all I can do is cry or lay in bed or stare at my computer. He has done nothing but take care of me for the last two weeks and make sure I’m okay.

People say this all of the time, and I’m sure I’ve said it before too, but I’ve never in my life meant it more than now:

I don’t know what I would do without him.

I keep wishing time away – for when mentally I’m repaired and not disabled by these hormones. For when we can start trying for another baby. For when I’ll be pregnant again. But I feel like the more I’m wishing, the more I’m removing myself from the present. But it’s just so damn hard to be here right now. Mentally. And physically…I guess. I’m rambling.

Anyway. I know I’ll get through this. And I’ll eternally be grateful for a husband that will do anything to make sure I that I do.