When my heart is overwhelmed, walking with depression

This week, this month, this year has felt long. This day, very long too.  Today I was overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed by kids who left for school and came home from it out of sorts, tearful, and sad/mad on a Tuesday. Overwhelmed with angry neighbors over trees that are too tall, too overstretched, and too weak to be left standing. Overwhelmed with knowledge that today would be a baby day for us. If things had only been different in June. Today would be 2 weeks before my due date and delivery day.
Overwhelmed because on good days my depression feels like a distant angst. On mediocre days like a well known companion that I am able to set aside enough to function. However, on days like today it is a tidal wave of anxiety and sadness that presses down until I eek the kids into bed in time to not see me succumb. It is sleepless exhaustion with the foreknowledge that morning is coming and I will need to get out of this bed to make breakfast, hug my littles in hopes that today is their better day, and carry out the things of daily life.
I find things stacking up inside me with no time to process or even acknowledge them. I also find that parenting through depression often requires me to compartmentalize just enough to make it through the day. There has not been time for what feels like an enormity of emotions I might feel if I allow myself to start. It is an old fear that if I were to begin the task of processing through this grief in me that it would overtake me and place me so deep that I would not be able to find my way back, I would not be able to get out of bed, parent through, or work through. I would succumb to it, as sometimes I want to. I am grateful for a husband who is patient with me. Who puts me to rest when I don't feel well, and tempers himself from frustrations I express without knowing the sharpness of my tongue  when I am expressing them. I think I am learning to make peace with this struggle, to own it more than I used to, and to start figuring out a better way than just compartmentalizing things enough to get by.


I should warn you when I'm not well
I can tell
There's nothing I can do
To make this easier for you
You're gonna need to be patient with me
How can I warn you when my tongue turns to dust like we've discussed?
It doesn't mean that I don't care
It means I'm partially there
You're gonna need to be patient with me

Wilco