You’re not supposed to be depressed when you’re pregnant. You’re supposed to feel lucky and blessed to have the Power of Breeding. You should feel smug, as this song, recently shared by a FB friend, reminded me: “Pregnant women are smug. Everyone knows it. But nobody says it. Because they’re pregnant.” It’s kind of catchy. If I wasn’t so depressed, or pregnant, I’d laugh.

I apologize to anyone who’s reading this oddly public format, thinking: “Margot’s pregnant again? Why didn’t I know?” Well, it’s because I suck. I probably haven’t talked to you in months. I’ve been holed up trying to figure this out while I work full time, feeling a continual pillow of sleepiness pressing down, trying to be chipper for boundless-energy Alejandro. Rafael’s also had two out-of-town jobs in the last month, which means I’ve been a single working mom while he brings home some bacon. Frankly, I’m a mess.

And let’s face it, I don’t look cute. I look bulbous and exhausted. The $500+ I spent on rushed maternity clothes had horrendous results. I have three pairs of pants with the appeal of paper sacks. One needs to be hemmed. The shirts are either schlumpy, oddly tight, or ruffled and pleated. All also bag-like. I have one decent dress, and have already explained to my co-workers that we can have only one important client meeting every week, wherein they can expect to see me wearing wrap-around teal.

Of course the clothes don’t matter, and how I look is a matter of opinion. I’m schlumpy on the inside. I’m full of guilt about my depression, and anxiety about my impending second-motherhood. If I can’t manage my current life, I reason, how the hell am I supposed to be a good mom to another small human? And to the one we already have? I’ve told Alejandro we don’t whine, but here I am. I have so many conflicting emotions.

Of course, I am happy, too. Absolutely blessed. Hopeful. I hold my belly and speak to him/her, willing them to be okay. I promise him/her that mommy will figure stuff out before they’re born, that I want want them, and will do my very best. And we did always plan on having a second child. I want Ali to have someone to commiserate with about how nuts we are. Isn’t that what siblings are for?

I just wasn’t ready. On the contrary, we had just planned to wait for a year. Back in March, as I realized I could evolve my job into something that would make me happy, I decided to concentrate on that, and set myself up for a future when yes, we would have a second child, and I wouldn’t be returning to the same old grind. “We’ve decided to wait.” I told about 20 people in about three weeks. I admit it: I was smug about the decision to wait. And I was pregnant the whole time.

At the heart of the issue: having too much to manage. Guilt over having too much, period. Why couldn’t sperm-meet-egg for one of my friends trying so hard to have a baby? It’s been such a hard road for many: scientific timing for sex, hormone injections, rushed trips to the sperm bank. Waiting. Hope and disappointment. The stress of it! These people too are in pain, and quietly suffering, waiting every month for the opportunity to love a little one, and to experience the back-breaking and mind-bending act of parenthood. To them especially: I’m sorry that I’m depressed about our good fortune. I’m doing my work to approach this with the joy and celebration it deserves.

I know on the other side of all of this–on the other side of depression–there’s healing, and great positive changes to be made. A future with more balance. As I mentioned in my last post, it’s the swimming in the muck that motivates one to seek higher ground. But God, it’s mucky. For now, I can only keep dog paddling, and float on my back when I’m really tired. I can make an appointment with a therapist specializing in these issues, hoping she’s a life vest that will fit. And I can write this post, even though it’s humiliating and I wish I was being more uplifting.

But it always feels better to write, and to be honest about what’s going on. I’ll get to the other side. Have patience, Margot. Have patience, friends. And please don’t be mad at me for where I’m at now, nor where I’ll be when I’ve seemingly figured it out and it all looks so easy from the outside!