Week 8

I have been lost to the world this past week. Between massage clients and long trips to and from Brighton, I have managed to crash hard this weekend. Coming down with a cold while pregnant isn’t really the most fun thing I have ever been through. In all honesty, the vomit that seems to be perpetually lodged in the back of my throat, hasn’t been all that fun either. All my energy is consumed in the battle of negativity and neutrality. I strive to remember why it is that I am feeling the way I am, and not to panic that I may have 2 more months of this feeling. I keep re-reading the facts that my little one is beginning to move around now, that it has fingers and toes and that it is bigger than a strawberry. Those facts remind me that the general low feeling I am having is for a damn good reason. I also appreciate the fact that I can sleep until 1 in the afternoon on a Saturday because I have no obligations other than to be well for this kid. This is something I won’t be able to do in less than 7 months.

I think I expected to have an uncontrollable amount of love for my little one right from the beginning. The fact that I have to remind myself to be conscious and present of its existence beyond my own discomfort makes me feel a little less worthy of the situation.