Today is the last day of my first trimester.
I’m feeling a little better physically, with some good days sprinkled in here and there.
And mentally? Well, its one day at a time.
My anxiety has lessened. It’s not gone, but it’s better. I think.
Thank you, Zoloft.
I’ve been keeping to myself a lot. Turning down invites to parties and dinners. I just don’t feel like me when I’m pregnant and it seems like so much effort to fake it. Also, I’m pretty sure no one wants to hang out with someone that spontaneously gags.
As much as I wish I could fast forward through this pregnancy, I am also scared of what that means.
Will I resent this baby because he takes a piece of me away from my first born?
Am I emotionally equipped to take care of another tiny human? There are already days I feel I am barely getting by. Days when I am so overwhelmed that I want to run away.
I see other women with two, three, and four kids. They look so together.
I never feel together. Ever. And I only have one kid.
How the hell am I gonna do it with two?
Big. Fat. Sigh.
I’m so much fun.