Yesterday was a fantastic day. Today, not so much.
I've already cried for a couple hours this morning. That was after I got into arguments with my son before he left for school. I feel like a heel of a mother. I ruined his whole day. I should drive up there and apologize to him in person, but I'm too tired to get out of these pajamas. Or get in the car.
My two little boys have been watching TV for nearly 2 1/2 hours now. It's "educational", but still.
I had leftover birthday cheesecake for breakfast. TWO slices. My midwife is not gonna be happy about that one. I already feel awful.
The laundry from Saturday still needs to be folded. I don't care.
The kids left for school before doing their chores. And I let them.
A good friend offered to take me to lunch. I declined.
I woke up to contractions in the middle of the night; they went away quickly.
I think #2 forgot to feed the cat. He's acting weird.
I'm wallowing in self-pity, even after a good conversation with my midwife about our appointment tomorrow. 4 women who were due after me already have their babies. One is really close. I'm trying to stay positive; I hate listening to people whine, too. But I forgot how HARD this is. How hard it is to be so emotionally (hormonally!!), mentally, and physically exhausted, with pain in my ligaments, my ribs, my hips, my legs, my abdomen --everywhere but my big toes --and to feel my skin stretching tighter and tighter. I forgot how difficult these last weeks are, and now to be "overdue?" It's so stinkin' hard. I feel like a failure because I don't have the energy for basic household cleaning anymore. And when I do? I know I have to get it done fast, and so I just yell at everybody to "hurry up!!" forgetting that it's because of MY exhaustion that I need them to hurry (when they really don't need to). I'm either super happy or super depressed. I feel bi-polar, but it's daily. The dumbest things will send me into a bawling-fest, and then two hours later, I'm laughing like the world is full of daisies and joy.
It's so messed up.
I don't know how my husband or my kids can handle me right now. I'm not sure they really are --I think they're faking it. And I don't blame them. They were all so VERY kind to me all weekend --my husband is the best man alive, I swear. I was able to rest a lot, Brandon made all the meals, and I really didn't have to do much at all. And yet, here I am, complaining and whining and being all moody the day after one of the best birthdays, ever.
I see photos of my friends' newborns and I'm so happy for them! But then I just want to cry because I just want to hold my baby.
You know what's the scariest part of all of these feelings? That something's wrong. I told my mom that I'm just expecting the baby to have something wrong with him (he's not healthy, he's mentally challenged from the get-go, he needs the NICU or something even though he's overdue) or I'll end up in the hospital with an emergency c-section. Then people will mock me for wanting a home birth and try to stick it to me and tell me I should never have done something so "stupid." My mom said I was being silly; she's seen me give birth, it'll be just fine. But still. I worry.
Brandon says I should hold out until Wednesday so we can have a leap day baby. It just made me cry inside. I don't want to wait anymore! #2 was 10 days late; I don't remember being this emotional about it. I must have been, right? But I only had one kid to take care of back then, not five.
My midwife is going to put oil (I can't remember the name of which one) on my cervix tomorrow afternoon. She put some on another client last week and she went into labor that night. This gives me hope.
Truth? If it was only the pregnancy, I wouldn't care. It's the hormones that have come with it.
Man, I need a nap. Really bad. I think I'll feel better if I just sleep for a few days. Or weeks.
Which reminds me, whenever someone tells me I look tired, I usually respond with "I am tired! I've been tired for 12 years!" I imagine it'll be another 40 before I get enough sleep. By then, my body probably won't let me, eh? Sigh.