Today I had my 24-week doctor’s appointment. The day started out as normal: take an exorbitant amount of time to wake up, take my dog outside, dog refuses to take a dump, child comes outside pantyless, make breakfast, child won’t eat breakfast, attempt to take dog out again, wrestle to get a cup of decaf coffee (I usually drink about 4-5 warm sips), make lunch for Matilda, attempt to look like a presentable person, get Matilda dressed, brush both of our teeth, wrestle to get the dog in his crate, and wait for 10 minutes as Matilda grabs her favorite toy + whatever else is deemed necessary for the day.
Usually by the time we get in the car I’m wiped out. I’ve been feeling a little sorry for myself. It’s just that I want to sleep in until 9, go out to breakfast, not have to deal with the dog or any tantrums. Not too much to ask, right?
I absolutely would not change my days for the world, it’s just sometimes we all need a little break. Especially when we’re six months pregnant. I kind of knew this would be the case, but people don’t pamper you the second time around. It’s like, “She’s got this.” Not that I don’t understand, I just could use a little extra pampering these days, if anything, subsequent pregnancies require way more special care than the first one. You can sleep in as late as you want with your first baby, there is plenty of time for pedicures, googling the perfect baby booties, you’re being showered left and right, and you don’t lift a finger.
So, I went to the appointment after dropping Matilda off at Mother’s Morning Out (a.k.a. the gift from God) and my appointment went great—measuring right on track, I got to hear that glorious heartbeat. All is well, yet I felt so sad. I’ve been struggling with a bit of the pre-baby blues. I’ve just been feeling overwhelmed. After picking Matilda up and fighting to get her down for a nap, I did a bit of work and then I TOOK A NAP. I never allow myself this luxury and I immediately felt so much better. Then my best friend called and it finally happened… I cried. I haven’t cried at all. I poured it all out there, the feeling overwhelmed, the anxiety of taking care of another tiny being, the difficulties of parenting a three-year-old, the challenge of working from home. I cried and I cried. It felt so good. Then I told her I didn’t have any cute clothes and we laughed. Friends can navigate the moody seas.
Have you had any breakthroughs or rather, breakdowns? Let’s talk about ‘em.