the ugly cry

Last night, it struck again. The “Christa-wont-ever-sleep-a-full-8-hours-again” bug.

I was furious.

I had been reading in hopes that it would make me tired and it had a little bit. As soon as it happened, I felt my eyes drooping and words blurring together, I snapped my book shut and ran into the room to fall asleep. The moment I walked into the room with Paul though my head started swimming with to-do lists and wants and wishes and what-ifs. I laid there in the pitch black darkness for twenty minutes before I decided it wasn’t going to happen and I’d go into the living room and read another chapter of my book.

One chapter didn’t do it. So I went on to read a second, and then a third and then it would have been stupid to not have just finished the last chapter of the book. By this time I was drowsy, the book was finished so I headed back to bed. Where I laid awake for another hour secretly crying because I was terrified something was going to happen to Paul in the next six months and I’d be left alone to raise a child I am all of a sudden terrified of.

Paul could hear me sniffing after a while and I told him it was nothing, I was done crying so I started talking slowly to make sure the fear was gone and then these words came out of my mouth:

“It’s weird; I can’t really explain it to you. I feel different about everything. I think differently about everything. I worry about things I’ve never worried about before, and worries I have had before are a thousand times more scary now that a child is involved. Even stuff that is not worry worthy, like where to buy our freaking rocking chair from seems to be racking my brain for hours on end.”

And the second the last word came out of my mouth I started doing the ugly cry (that’s what Jodi and I call it). You know the one, where you’re heaving and choking and your face is hot and sopping wet, you can’t breathe and you knew if someone was filming you it would most definitely not be cinematic worthy and people would look away because it was so awkward to watch? Yea, that’s the cry I had at 1:00 this morning. I was hysterical. I couldn’t even figure out why I was crying.

I was sitting up in our bed and Paul gently asked what he could do to help and I knew there was nothing. I told him I just had to cry it out. Cry it out? Cry what out?! Why the hell was I crying?! (I get that my pregnant hormones are crazy now but something had to have set me off…).

I started going through the things that I thought might have triggered it but couldn’t find the one in order to rationalize the fit I was now indulging in and so I could try to calm myself down. Instead, every time I thought of something that would have been pregnancy cry worthy, I just sobbed harder knowing it wasn’t the start of my heaving cry but was now in my head and was worth crying about too. Stress at work. I sobbed harder. Fear of losing my job after I come back from maternity leave. Sobbing harder. Dominican Republic. We’re talking hysterical here. It was unbelievable the things my body wanted to get out. I sat there upright in bed for 5 minutes after I was done, thinking about how very tired I was and furious at how hard it was for me to fall asleep. I leaned back and thought for a bit and then stopped remembering anything at all. Finally I was asleep.

These fits can’t happen often. I’ll drive poor Paul loco. Oh, and I’ll make myself fat (you know, with the cheddar bites from Sonic I had today as a consolation prize for being exhausted).