Fair warning - this isn't the most positive post I've ever written. If you don't feel like reading my self-pitying bellyaching, I won't blame you at all for scrolling on past. It's kinda lame.
1. The carton of big juicy organic strawberries in the fridge that I am no longer allowed to eat.
2. Scott eating a Hershey's bar in front of me and making the whole car smell like chocolate.
3. Scott eating crackers in front of me then complaining that they didn't taste that good.
4. Thinking about how close I was to eating a peanut butter cookie shake.
5. Letting Scott console me with nachos, only to be served a soggy plate of distgusting mush by the worst Taco Cabana employee on Earth.
6. Scott eating those nachos in front of me.
7. Doing the math, and realizing that I started gaining weight several weeks too early, and knowing that it's my fault for cheating on my diet too often, and not exercising often enough.
8. Feeling like a huge fat baby for getting so upset about food when I shouldn't even be eating delicious things anyway because I am already so very fat.
9. Waking up to a sink full of dishes, and a counter full of dishes, and a stove full of dishes.
11. Turning on my computer to start work.
12. Imagining Babeleo and myself obese and crying in a pile of filth as the result of my turning out to be the worst WAHM ever.
Well that escalated quickly. It's past ten in the morning and I should be an hour or two deep into my workday. Instead, I'm balled up on the futon in my office sobbing. Just yesterday I was revelling in feelings of peace and calm, stoked by some unexplainable inner confidence in my natural birth and mothering skills. It's kind of troubling how the removal of strawberries from my life can so quickly shatter my mental stability.
Guess it wasn't all that stable after all. The truth is that things have been weighing on me the past few weeks. Concentrating at work has been tough. Between the distraction of pregnancy, and my memory just not being as sharp as it usually is, tasks that are usually simple are somehow more daunting. I can't help but worry about how hard it might be after the baby is born.
Then there are the normal grown-up people things that everyone has to deal with, the house, the bills, making big decisions. Right now all of that feels awfully hard to keep up with. We somehow always owe money for something. There have been dishes on my counter for almost a week. The floor is continuously dirty, and there is stuff everywhere. Granted, a lot of it is baby stuff that won't have a home until the room is finished, but still. The chaos of it all is starting to get to me.
And, of course, I have a book to write, blog posts to publish, exercise to make time for, and an ever-increasingly strict diet to plan for.
Most days I can push all of this stuff to the side and just focus on how blessed I am to even be pregnant at all. Most days I find a way to have faith that it will all work out, that I will somehow find a balance between my work-at-home job, my baby, and everything else, Most days I can reach inside and find a little pocket of bliss to pull me through all the worries and fears.
Not today though. Today I'm tired. Today I'm scared.