So, I'm kind of a mess these days. I just can't even bring myself to write anything anymore, even though I've got enough material to post twice a day, no lie. But I don't have the energy to talk about it--any of it. I'm not sleeping at night. After I wake up for my 1:45 am pee, I just lay there, thinking thinking thinking, talking to myself, crying, flopping around like a fish in the bottom of a boat. I eventually fall asleep at about 5:30 after listening to the grandfather clock bong, bong, bong for hours. I can't do this for the next 7 months.
And then there's this concern that I have--I'm not sick. Why? I wish that I would just puke already. I was barfy until exactly 16 weeks with Nate, and I'm not even nauseated with this one. Part of me thinks that the universe is cutting me a break with this one--"Okay people, Laura's pregnant again. Now, we really dropped the ball with her last kid, so let's go easy on her this time. No puking, no acne, and for christssake, no constipation this time. Oh, and let's make sure that she can still eat biscuits and sausage gravy and find it delicious." The only reason that I know I'm pregnant is because occasionally, very occasionally, my boobs feel like they're going to explode. But that's it. So my worry is--where in the hell are the hormones that are supporting this pregnancy if they're not around to make me sick? Maybe they're around, but they are what's keeping me from sleeping at night, crying all day, not wanting to leave the house and completely avoiding my poor husband. Maybe? I never thought that I'd ever be wishing to puke.
I'm just scared. Bringing home a baby is so out of the scope of my imagination. Actually bringing home a live baby and using all the cool baby stuff that I already have, some not even taken out of the packages, is about as unfathomable to me as leaving the hospital without my son was the first time I was pregnant. Ugh, I hate that. I've always been such a ridiculously positive Pollyanna type of person. I guess that this is what fear does to a person. It's ugly. I'm going to work on this, though. There is no way that I'm not going to celebrate this baby. He or she deserves all the hope that I have. I have to be brave--that' s what moms do for their kids.
Anyway, my point was, I'm sorry that I've been such a crappy blogger. I'd say that I was going to take a break for awhile, but who knows, I might have a ton of garbage to get off my chest tomorrow. Or maybe I'll just post pictures of stuff that I bake. Or flowers. Whatever. I'm hoping that here in a couple of months, when I can finally feel Chip moving around in there, I'll start feeling more connected and positive. I'm sure I will. Now that I've written this, I really think that my formerly barfy hormones have changed duties and are turning me into a horrible, weepy, whiney hobgoblin. You think?