Today I am feeling particularly sorry for myself! I know I should be excited about the imminent arrival and the miracle of birth, but quite frankly I just feel miserable. I don’t think I can even articulate how I feel or why I feel it. Perhaps I’m just worn out with all this pregnancy business. Fed up of sitting around waiting for a life to happen. I can’t even stand and peel a potato without swelling up like a balloon, so I’m sat on the sofa watching crap on TV and thinking about all the things I could be doing, places I could be going.
I’m scared that I’m not thinking about the baby as an exciting thing. Right now I’m trusting on instincts, and the fact that I have no choice, that I will love her when she’s here. But there’s a dark cloud forming, and it is making me uneasy. And because my overthinking brain tells me that any negative thoughts about the baby will be repaid with disappointing results, I’m working overtime to paint the smile on and tell everyone how excited I am to meet my baby girl. I am excited. Excited to get my body back. And I’ll be glad to get the anxiety over with and see that she is ok. Past that, I can’t say that feeding, changing or sleepless nights are filling me with much excitement. Breasts leaking milk, every step I take being ruled by one little person, not being able to go out on my own because of feeding routines. Never being me again. Right now that is all I can think about. That makes me an awful person I guess.
I expect there will be people reading this (not that I have many readers!) thinking I am an unpleasant, ungrateful and selfish woman. Having babies is truly a miracle and I get there are many women who dream of a child and cannot have one of their own. But this blog was never intended to say what I thought people wanted to hear. This is my therapy. This is what stops me from having to say the things I feel to those closest to me who might judge me or struggle to understand. I wish I felt differently. I wish I had all the ‘right’ feelings about the pregnancy and the baby. All I can hope is that this is some kind of defence mechanism. That my mind knows how much concern I’ve had about delivering a healthy baby, that it has decided to underplay my feelings to protect me. When she’s here the mist will clear and I will be free to love. I sure hope so.
I’m hoping this is ‘ANT’ working her black magic on me. Although she has learned some pretty covert tactics because this time it doesn’t feel like her work. I’m sincerely hoping that the next few days will show me how wrong my ‘old friend’ can be and finally help me to kick her into touch. I don’t want to live my life in her shadow anymore.