Update: So yes, I’ve had a really rough weekend. I felt like my anxiety was winning over everything. After everyone left, I cried for a while. And ended up falling asleep for two hours which I didn’t plan. I felt a lot more able to cope with some sleep. My kids never missed a beat. Not have they brought up my slip. They were remarkably well behaved tonight. I cooked dinner and my oldest helped pick up his room and the living room With a great attitude. Had several people from the church send word that they love us and want me to rest and do what is best for my baby. And my husband was completely fine even though I felt like I had killed his morning. He fixed lunch for the kids and let me rest. I’m still learning that not ever Ministry has spiteful people. Thankfully people who really love God are not wired that way. Even Ministry families get hurt and burned and tired. Thankfully God is big enough to handle my questioning and frustration and tired. And even my mouth. Thankful he’s a loving daddy and not some hater in the sky waiting to strike us down when we fail and question. He’s got big shoulders. And I was thankful that I just slept. It was clearly what I needed to cope and think and bring some of my anxiety down.

PS. I really hope nothing here has turned anyone off. Religion doesn’t save anyone. God does. And even those of us that believe have days where we just fall and question and break. He’s a good God. And I’m thankful I was just able to emotionally explode for a few minutes.

I’m so done. And it’s 9 am. My anxiety has been through the roof for 24 hours. A bunch of different stuff. And nobody understands or truly cares. Literally, my own husband was like just stop. Okay yeah, I’ll tell my 34 week pregnant self to just turn off the emotional panic attack. Which by the way is brought on by his job.

My husband is in ministry. So I’m probably the textbook definition this morning of the worst wife and mom and ministry spouse around. You aren’t religious? That’s fine. I don’t need negative comments about it here. I just need a place to let it go without being attacked or told to stop or whatever.

Weeks ago my doctors told me I needed to keep to myself. I’ve had infection in my lungs for a month. The odds of relapse are great. The risk to the baby is great. And the exact words of my doctors were “we know you’re a pastors wife, but you really don’t need to be at church until you recover from giving birth.”

I’m 34 weeks. Which doing the math is another month of gestating plus however long it takes to recover from Birth plus keeping the baby away from smothering old ladies who think it’s still okay to touch a newborn.

So what? So I’ve lived this bedrest/house arrest before. I got two healthy kids out of it. I have one waiting on me in heaven. But I know first hand they churches are spiteful. The last ministry and the last pregnancy was so hated because I was on bedrest. This time, I’m healthy. But the risk of me picking something up is so great they still don’t want me out. So as much as I can choose to avoid crowds and church and people, I should.

My husband had done the grocery shopping. I canceled my baby shower. I’ve been trapped in this house for weeks. And last night, everything just got to me. All I could do was cry. They’re gonna be mad because I’m not there. There gonna see me doing something else and complain that if I can say take my kid to the doctor I should have my butt in church. (My youngest is having surgery Thursday. I have preops with him this week. And yes, the idea of them putting my baby under anesthesia and doing surgery had me on overdrive too. Not to me that the hospital is a great place to get sick again.)

I could use a little understanding or some assurance that it’s all gonna be okay.

So this morning is the first Sunday of Holy Week. And the first Sunday I’m not dying in the bed ill. And I’m not up getting ready to go to worship. Honestly, it sucks. Because I truly do love God. And I enjoy attending services. And I want to be with my family especially my children. I keep nursery almost every week. So me being out has always left me scrambling to find someone to serve and given me anxiety about sending my smallest child. Will anyone be there to watch him so his daddy can serve?

The baby is kicking low. I literally thought I was going into labor last night. I got my kids ready. They were watching cartoons. I’m on the freaking floor like a beached whale trying to wrangle a toddler into sneakers. And he grabs the remote and creams me in the eye with it. It set me off. My sinuses are swollen from infection. It hurt. And I cried because I’m

Stressed and tired and pregnant and angry at the entire situation.

Then I told my child to get his cup and put it in the sink. His brother locked his feet around the cup blocking it so my child pulled the lid off trying to fight with his brother. Liquid all over

The carpet. I lost it. My oldest refused to listen and I lost it. If the TV is on, he turns into a brat and a zombie. I hate the tv. I hate screen time. We are those parents Because my oldest becomes ten thousand kinds of terrible and disobedient and ugly with screen time.

So he wouldn’t listen or move and now I’ve got wet carpet. On my hands and knees and I just snapped. TURN THE DAMN TV OFF.

My youngest is crying. My oldest is crying because I lost my temper and took away his show. I’m having a hard time caring. I let into him. He’s done with tv for today and until I deem it okay again. Probably an overreaction to a spilled cup of water. But he wouldn’t even move while his pregnant mother is trying to clean water around his feet because he was zombie kid over a cartoon. 😡😡😡

They left with the entire atmosphere feeling angry and toxic. It’s the worst way I can send my spouse into church in a Sunday especially the first Sunday of Holy Week.

So here I sit. The house is a wreck. My eye is throbbing. And I’m crying having a full on anxiety attack. I’m already afraid I won’t be able to handle another kid. I’m struggling to haul my toddler and handle my preschooler so far pregnant. I’m constantly worried about this baby.

And the most support I get is maybe you should suck it up and go to church to be seen and wear a mask. Yeah that’s what visitors on Easter wanna see is people in a hospital mask. Like what contagion is she carrying? Or “just stop and don’t” because I’m struggling. Or maybe I should just pray my way out of it.

I don’t like to cuss at my kids. I don’t like to cuss at all. I’m so far from the perfect mom and wife and ministry person. His entire rant is probably gonna make people feel like church ain’t the place for them. Truth is God is a good God. I have miracle babies to prove it. I love being a mom. But I’m done with this pregnancy. I just want out.

I feel like I’m never gonna have my health and my body and my sanity back. I’m tired of wrestling shoes onto toddler feet hurting my back and belly. I’m tired of feeling like an emotional train wreck. I’m tired of not sleeping. And baby cravings. And having fear about whether I should take the kids to the egg hunt we’ve paid money to attend.

I’m frustrated with my husband who hasn’t touched me in a good 5 months. And who is torn between helping me and the kids vs being the shepherd to everyone else.

Sometimes I’d like to demand he worry about his own sheep at home. Because momma is struggling.

I’m sick of worrying about money, and getting sick, and being in public. Knowing if I catch even a cold at this point it could put my unborn baby at risk.

I can’t believe I cursed at my kid. He will probably tell the whole church. Momma said Damn and it’s not nice.

Momma said damn. Momma has said worse. Momma isn’t perfect. Only God is. And I’d like to think of all the mess I’m dealing with, maybe He understands that I’m tired and broken and scared and stressed. And I’d give my left arm to just “stop” when my anxiety amps up.