Only as Sick as the Secrets We Keep

Glennon says we are only as sick as the secrets we keep and I know that to be particularly applicable to me. When I do not share my secrets with someone who can hold me, feel with me, and tell me I'm fine, my mind becomes diseased. So that brings me here, to the place I come when my mind can't hold any more disease and needs healing. Writing is great at healing.
I am needy. Two weeks ago I asked for many prayers to aid in my efforts at getting my unborn child give up her breech position. All the efforts worked, she turned, and for a couple days my mind was cured of the heaviness that weighed it down. The miracle was like a band aid. But band aids fall off.
I am a giant living wound and I feel so obvious and pathetic. On almost every day it would be safe to assume that I am in need of someone putting my name into the temple or offering a special prayer on my behalf. I am always on the verge of oozing and bleeding everywhere. 
I hate who I am right now. Every day I lose my patience with my sweet Aurora. She's two, how can I expect her to act any other age?  But I do. I expect her to take it easy on me because I am struggling. And Brady, I resent him so much for taking down time when he is not at work. I want him to spend all my waking moments with me, to be my crutch and make me feel better. But why would anyone ever want to do that for someone who is never satisfied, for someone so full of requests and "secrets"?
So how am I feeling? That's what they all ask, the neighbors, church folk, and my MOPS friends, but I never get to answer them the way I need to. Secret spilling is just not polite for small talk and  awkward for relationships that aren't at that level yet. I need to say awful. I need to say I feel like I am not being a good mother right now. I need to say I am ashamed I keep crying in front of my daughter, I am disappointed in my irritability and outbursts. I feel so alone most of the time. I am afraid that I will become seriously depressed after my new babies birth and feel towards her the way I felt towards Aurora; heck, I am afraid I will feel that way towards Aurora again after the new babies birth. I am afraid that I am too much for the people I love. That I am more than they know how to handle. That I will worry them too much. I will be too much of a burden. I am afraid that I am different than everyone else I know and they never feel anything like this. And on top of it all my body has never felt worse.
But I am so close to relief of this body. At most 3 weeks left of my belly skin being stretched to the limit, of instable hips that limit mobility and a crotch that could use suspenders, of charlie horses in my shins and toes.
I will be okay after that. I will detach myself from any disease that attempts to fill my mind and put peace in its place. I will smile and I will nourish my babies. I will not obsess over my lack of sleep. I will soak in the great things about the newborn weeks because they are only that, weeks that do not last. I will love others and I will accept love from others in whatever form they are comfortable giving it. I will not expect things to be simple and accept that I will make mistakes. I will take Christ's hand and he will be with me. I will trust him to keep me safe.