Momma's gotta whine for a minute and you're gonna just DEAL.

Below are my thoughts from October 2nd. I read over this before posting (several weeks after originally writing it) and I am frankly amused and enlightened by the obvious hormonal influences at work, here. So bear with me through this one, I just needed to get it out of my system. I am not quite so melancholy now, thankfully. 

It’s blissfully quiet here. It could be more quiet, but this is enough for me. I could do without the radio in the distance but sometimes a good song comes on and has me humming along… "kiss me, under the moonlit twilight,” and for a few minutes, I don’t resent the sound so much. Since when did I become this person who needs - craves - peace and quiet? Sometimes I feel like I am aging faster on the inside than I am on the outside, if that makes any sense. I like to bird watch, for God’s sake. I’m 28. I was under the impression that hobby wouldn’t come into effect until at least my 60s, but here I am, enamored with my hummingbird visitors. My husband and I call them “customers” who visit our little feeder (their cafe). When we see one whirl up and sit for a drink, we’ll excitedly exclaim, “Oh look! A customer!” It’s nice being married to someone who is just as ridiculous as you are - and just embraces it. 

As I sit here typing this in my back yard, listening to the faint sound of Coldplay, I can’t quite put what is going on inside my head into words. I mean, I could. But it’s disjointed and convoluted and not something that would come out in an understandable, followable sentence. It’s honestly easier to just slap it down because the things I feel are layered like lasagna. Everything bleeds together. Yes, there are distinct layers, but they all kind of meld and mash and each thing seems to effected by the neighboring thing. And it tastes nothing as delicious as lasagna.

I feel guilt for quitting my job. I feel like a failure compared to someone like my mother, who worked until pretty much the minute I was born. My mother is a nurse, which means she was on her feet for hours every day, taking care of other people. So, yes, I feel like a sorry excuse for a person because I wanted to get the hell away from my 9 - 6 office job. Granted, in my defense, I was miserable. My commute was forty minutes each way, which meant that I was gone from 8am until 7pm, usually. For a long time it didn’t bother me, but once I got burned out, it became the bane of my existence. I felt completely unsatisfied with my work life. Property management was not my degree, it was not what I had gone to college to do. I have a BS in Journalism, but do you see me using it? Not at the moment. So tack on some more guilt there, because I felt guilty that I was not using my paid-for degree. 

Bear with me here, because what I'm about to say sounds horrifically selfish. It would be nice to think that my blog is my safe zone, where I can express my true thoughts. I think if you don't get it out of your head, you can't work through why you feel the things you feel. When you can look back over your feelings there in black and white, you can more easily process what was going on in your head. At least, that's how I feel about it. I think the thoughts I am about to express aren't too uncommon. I am sure that other mothers-to-be out there have struggled with these feelings, however lasting or fleeting they may be. Once I found out I was pregnant, I felt happiness for about 3 seconds before reality set in. I hadn’t done everything I wanted to do yet. I still felt like a kid! I hadn’t really lived, yet hadn’t really traveled. How could I do that with a kid? How could I have fun with a kid? How could I ever be myself again, with a KID? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I got pregnant on purpose. I wanted this, I wanted to be a mom, I wanted to take the next step. I never expected to go through this cycle of almost mourning for my life pre-kid. And now, tack on more guilt. What kind of horrible monster thinks like that? What kind of person purposefully gets pregnant and then - borderline resents it? God, I could burst into tears right now. Which is something I have been doing an alarming amount of, lately. 

Before I quit my job, I had all of these grand plans for the things I would get done when I was at home. I was going to refinish all of our Sammy-chewed furniture for one thing. One of our dachshunds (Sammy) punishes us by chewing our furniture. The bright side is that almost everything we own was bought off Craigslist or given to us for free. He has toys, by the way. Nyla bones, squeaky toys, you name it. Nope, he’d rather gnaw on my coffee table, the little bastard. But GOD I love my bubbas. This is him:

Well, all of my grand plans for things I was going to do were completely spoiled on day one of my pre-baby R&R. Up until that day, I’d felt fine. Peeing all the time, sure, but that was it. I opened my eyes on the first morning as “stay at home pregnant wife” and almost immediately needed to rush to the bathroom to puke. God, that was a miserable week. It didn’t end after a week, I just began to figure out how to manage the nausea. The fun thing is, once you sort of think you’ve figured out how to beat the nausea back - it morphs and becomes something else. Like now, the nausea isn’t quite so bad unless I get a whiff of salsa - I love eating it but I cannot smell it without puking. Pregnancy is weird. 

Now, the problem is indigestion. After. Everything. I. Eat. Or. Drink. Ohhh how fun it is to be pregnant. I don’t mean to be insensitive to those who struggle with fertility. But, I think I found myself completely blind-sided by the experience I’ve had thus far. The term is “morning sickness,” right? No. It’s all day. ALL DAY SICKNESS. It’s NOT just in the morning. Why call it that? Why not just say, “listen, you’re going to feel like shit for a few months.” At least give a girl some warning so she can prepare herself. I was fully aware that I would be sick, feel nauseous, have bad days, etc. I knew all of that. I just didn’t realize the extent of it all. For example - how absolutely bone tired I feel after doing nothing at all other than eating breakfast. What a struggle, right? Crunching that damn cereal down really did me in, y’all. Gotta nap now. 

It's still early in my pregnancy. I am being told that in a few weeks, once I hit my second trimester, it’ll be smooth sailing. Forgive me if I glare and hiss at anyone who dares tell me anything anymore. Y’all are all liars and I feel like absolute dog crap, and I don’t want to get my hopes up that in "just a few" weeks I’ll suddenly morph into a glowing and happy pregnant lady, with energy and no nausea, and everything will be blissful as a continue growing my bundle of sweet joy. 

I’ll believe it when I’m not gagging at every smell or coughing up stomach acid after every meal. 

Cue the guilt, again. Why can’t I just fight on and quit my bitching and be thankful that I’ve been blessed with this little miracle growing in my belly? I AM thankful. I love this little shrimp-looking baby inside me. I can’t wait to meet it and kiss his or her face and marvel at this beautiful person my husband and I created. But man, the creating part has been hell so far. 

Cue the tears at thinking about meeting my baby for the first time. So many emotions. 

Thank you for attending my whine-fest. Sometimes, you've just got to get it out.