Yesterday was good. This past weekend was good. Today is not so good.
I’m nauseated and dead-tired. I feel just like I felt five weeks ago. I was so happy that the symptoms were subsiding, and here they are again, back in full force. I’m sure they’re still subsiding, and that this is just a “flow” moment in the ebb and flow of the first trimester’s retreat, but still … I really just want to go home and go to bed. I know I could sleep for two or three hours.
On to more exciting things: My next prenatal appointment is today. I’ll meet one of the OBGYNs that I haven’t met yet, and they’ll probably draw some blood to accompany the ultrasound screening.
Oh, yuck. I just dry-gagged, right here at my desk. Luckily, it was a quiet, inconspicuous gag, a modest gag, a gag worthy of such a fine southern lady as myself. But still, it was a gag. Oh, the nausea.
This morning I woke up and wrote. I have so much to think about, so much on my mind that needs to be flushed out via morning pages. I worry about a lot of stuff, Scout’s health and happiness being at the top of the list. But there’s other stuff, too:
- What am I going to do about my job after Scout is born? I don’t want to quit (and I couldn’t quit, even if I wanted to), but I don’t want to drop Scout at daycare every day while I go pursue my career. It just seems selfish and unfair to poor Scout. I want to be with Scout, particularly in these early years.
- What will my biological mother’s relationship to Scout be? She wants to be “grandma.” Something in me just really rebels against that idea, of her being "on equal footing" with Mrs. Gwen, whom I consider my real mom. She (my birth mother) brought it up to me weeks ago, shortly after I told her I was pregnant. Later, she apologized for bringing up something that could potentially be so stressful for me. But I’ve stressed about it ever since.
- Why can’t I work? OK, that question isn’t worded right. I can work, and I’m getting work done every day. But I’m just so uninterested in it. I would rather just look at baby websites or write or practice piano. The thought of working on the 706 manual template at work just does not appeal to me. At all.
- Whatever shall I wear? I’m not big enough for maternity clothes, and I’m too big for most of my form-fitting clothes. I’d been wearing loose skirts and belly-forgiving “Sunday best” clothes every day, but then Mrs. Gwen and I went shopping for maternity clothes this weekend. They are sooo comfortable. I’m wearing them right now, even though, according to most people, I don’t look pregnant.
I keep thinking, if I could sleep better, or if I could take a few days of vacation, things would just be so much easier. I feel like my brain is stuffed full of scratchy pink insulation, and all my thoughts are sweaty and sluggish and running out of oxygen.