The weekend started with a BUST. Going to bed on Friday night, Barry and I had a conversation that made me cry, and once I started I couldn't stop. It was a serious discussion about parenting and money (fears, expectations, etc.)but it wasn't something that would typically cause me try cry uncontrollably. But there I was, gushing, with no end in sight. I went to sleep upset, something I hate doing. I woke up early to let the dogs out in OP, threw on some sweat pants and a sweatshirt, and was out and back home by 8:00am. I crawled back to bed and slept another 2 hours. I woke up in a funk. I didn't feel like going anywhere, but didn't feel like being at home either. I didn't care about what was on TV, or even what I was going to eat for breakfast, even though I could feel my stomach growling. Barry finally asked me if I was OK, I said no and started crying again. He asked if it was him. I answered "No" but I really wasn't sure. I couldn't talk about it... didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to wallow in my funk. Then I realized that I CRAVED Barry to hug me, touch me, kiss me, whatever, but I felt like I couldn't ask him to do it; I wanted him to want to do it on his own. At one point he gave me a hug and it seemed that I clung to him like I was going to loose him or something. (I don't know if he noticed.) It was so bazaar. I looked at my bed and thought how great it would be to just lay down again, but at the same time, didn't want to waste my time there - I knew as soon as I laid down that I would be bored. I never felt this way in my entire life before - very strange.
So, about 3, I got out of my sweats and dressed for the day. We headed to Orange Park for another dog sitting session. We found a cat that was lost and that perked me up for a short while. Then we headed to a friends, I got to watch the Gators win (barely!) and I slowly felt like my old self again.
On the way back to let the dogs out for the last time that day, I was finally able to talk to Barry about my funk. I described what I felt and he said I sounded depressed. Hm. In my 29 years of life, it was the first time I had ever felt that. Depression. (And it only lasted a 1/2 day - makes me feel very lucky.) Then I was able to tell him that I realized that I just missed his touch so much. It must have been an accumulation of a few days of unconscious preggo-induced thoughts of a poor body image or something... who knows? So as soon as I was able to talk about it, the weekend went MUCH better than it started. Sunday was a great day of spending time with family and friends, and the weekend ended with a great bang (If you know what i mean! :))