The End of My Rope

I just called my boss and told him I'm done with work, effective immediately. It was a very hard decision, but one that now that it's made I feel good about. I had stronger but irregular contractions from about 2 am to 7ish this morning. Initially, I called in and told work that I wanted to give it a couple hours and see what was going on. I would be in about 10 if the contractions died off again.

The contractions proceeded to die off basically right after I got off the phone. I took a quick nap, and woke up and nearly cried at the thought of going to work. After a long talk with Mando, I realized some things. This is more than just about when (if?) I go into labor. I know these feelings. For those of you who know me well, you know that I have struggled with mild depression over the past 7 years or so (if you know me well and didn't know this, don't feel bad, I work very hard to hide it, and admitting it to the interwebs just now is not an easy task). Whether or not these feelings have anything to do with being 39 weeks and 2 days pregnant, these are the feelings I get when I'm depressed. I continue to beat my head against a wall and obsess over things over which I have no control, because I'm too proud/guilty/whatever to do what it is that I do have control over.

In this case, it is work. The last week has been the same everyday - get up, bitch about going to work, go to work hoping I'll have an excuse to not get through the day, have very little to actually do at work so I end up working on things I should not be doing at 9 months pregnant (like categorizing, rolling and filing old construction plans which involves lots of walking, lifting and getting down on the floor to roll said plans). I finally get done at 5 pm, only to get home and be too exhausted to do anything but lay on the couch until 10 pm. Go to bed, have some contractions which make me sleep like crap, get up and do it all over again. I want to stop working, but I'm too proud and I feel guilty because I originally agreed to work up until Squeaky was born. It makes me want to bury my head in the sand, and avoid things that I enjoy, and well, just avoid life in general, which is neither healthy nor will it make me feel better.

Don't get me wrong - I fully realize that whether I work or not has no bearing whatsoever on whether I will go into labor. But it does have a significant impact on my emotional state. It breaks the cycle, and breaking the cycle is usually enough to get me out of my funks before they spiral further. And Squeaky does not need his mommy to be in one of her funks when he arrives. It's not fair to him, and it's not fair to me.

So, to continue with the story, I called my boss, expecting to give him a slightly shortened version of the above spiel. And I have to say, as demanding of a boss as he can be, he is also a wonderful person. The conversation took less than 3 minutes. His answer: "Do what you need to do. If you need to stay home and take it easy, do it. If you're bored and want to come in for a few hours, do it." I've always said that I love my job, and not everyone understands why when I try to explain, but THIS is why I love my job. Thanks bossman, you rock.

So I'm at home. I'm going to clean the house like I want to, I'm going to nap when I need to and I'm going to enjoy these last few days of non-parenthood with my husband. I reached the end of my rope and I'm ok with that.