HoneymoonBaby
03-22-2004, 01:54 AM
Right this second, I hate being pregnant. I don't like the total lack of control I have over my emotions right now. I just lost a stupid auction on E-bay, and that simple thing sent me into a grumpy, horrid mood. I feel like I could cry for hours. I was fine five minutes ago. I get so upset over the stupidest things. And now it's nearly midnight and I'm pissed at myself for not going to bed an hour ago like I promised myself I would, and I'm mad at DH for hanging out in the basement all night on HIS computer ignoring me.
The baby keeps kicking me and squirming around, and it just feels weird. I'm happy to know he's healthy and active, but I will never get used to the feeling of another person squirming inside my body. Most of the time it's kind of fun, but when I'm in this sort of a cranky mood, it almost feels like a violation . . . like I wish I could just get a break from all this body sharing for five minutes, have a STRONG Jack and Coke, and not be constantly worried about the status and future of my baby boy.
I'm overwhelmed with everything I have to do before this baby is born. His nursery is coming along pretty well, and our living room looks great, thanks to a recent infusion of new furniture, but the rest of the house is total chaos. Our bedroom is a pigsty full of paperwork and piles of dirty laundry, the guest room is full of clean laundry with nowhere to put it, the basement is full of DH's stuff from his old office (now the baby's room) and even more dirty laundry. The kitchen is half-torn apart and in the process of redecorating, but we actually work on the decoration MAYBE once every six weeks since we're so busy with everything else.
I alternate between being thankful that my boss is willing to let me stay home three months and then work from home 3 days a week, and outraged that I can't afford to just stay home altogether. And then I hate myself because the truth is that I probably COULD stay home on DH's salary . . . we would just have to really cut back our fairly cushy standard of living a lot. We'd be living the Walmart life . . . and in the darkest part of my soul I know that's never going to be enough for me. I'd be miserable. Which means I'm a total f!@#ing self-centered bitch, right? I mean, what kind of a person leaves her baby with a nanny two days a week and lets DH be responsible for baby in the evenings just so she can keep her comfortable yuppie lifestyle? Especially when she could afford to stay home every day and not be tied to the computer at night if she was only willing to sacrifice that material comfort?
Oh, that reminds me of my other dirty little secret -- I think I'll ENJOY being at the office a couple of days a week. I'll be out of the house, and giving the orders instead of taking them from a 10-pound, poopy-diapered boss. And there will be adult interaction there, as well, something I have thrived on since I wasn't even an adult myself. I think I'll miss DS like crazy, but I also suspect that missing him 16 hours a week will be a nice change of pace from constantly addressing his every need all day long, every day.
I don't mean to sound like I'm not happy about motherhood or my baby -- I LOVE this baby like I love my own life already, and he's not even here yet. But all the love and concern is sooooooo exhausting, and I just get so overwhelmed that I almost get resentful sometimes. It's not fair that I don't get a choice -- I never chose to love this baby, the love just sprang from some well I didn't know I had, one that's capable of producing worry and obsession over every detail of the life and future of a being that weighs 2 pounds, is maybe 14 inches long, and spends most of its time hiccuping. I LOVE this baby. And it absolutely terrifies me. If I feel this way now, how will I feel when I'm looking into his eyes after I've actually given birth to him? The prospect is frightening.
Seriously . . . is there something wrong with me, or is this just my introduction to the brutal and strangely beautiful world of motherhood? I feel like I'm the only one who has ever felt this out-of-control before. Sometimes I have these calm, wonderful moments, where everything seems just as it should be and I'm filled with joy over the blessings coming into my life. But other times, like right now, I just want to lie down and rage. And I don't know why.
Here ends my bitching post. Ian says to all of you, in conclusion, "KICK." (Or he might have said "HICCUP." It's hard to tell these days.)
The baby keeps kicking me and squirming around, and it just feels weird. I'm happy to know he's healthy and active, but I will never get used to the feeling of another person squirming inside my body. Most of the time it's kind of fun, but when I'm in this sort of a cranky mood, it almost feels like a violation . . . like I wish I could just get a break from all this body sharing for five minutes, have a STRONG Jack and Coke, and not be constantly worried about the status and future of my baby boy.
I'm overwhelmed with everything I have to do before this baby is born. His nursery is coming along pretty well, and our living room looks great, thanks to a recent infusion of new furniture, but the rest of the house is total chaos. Our bedroom is a pigsty full of paperwork and piles of dirty laundry, the guest room is full of clean laundry with nowhere to put it, the basement is full of DH's stuff from his old office (now the baby's room) and even more dirty laundry. The kitchen is half-torn apart and in the process of redecorating, but we actually work on the decoration MAYBE once every six weeks since we're so busy with everything else.
I alternate between being thankful that my boss is willing to let me stay home three months and then work from home 3 days a week, and outraged that I can't afford to just stay home altogether. And then I hate myself because the truth is that I probably COULD stay home on DH's salary . . . we would just have to really cut back our fairly cushy standard of living a lot. We'd be living the Walmart life . . . and in the darkest part of my soul I know that's never going to be enough for me. I'd be miserable. Which means I'm a total f!@#ing self-centered bitch, right? I mean, what kind of a person leaves her baby with a nanny two days a week and lets DH be responsible for baby in the evenings just so she can keep her comfortable yuppie lifestyle? Especially when she could afford to stay home every day and not be tied to the computer at night if she was only willing to sacrifice that material comfort?
Oh, that reminds me of my other dirty little secret -- I think I'll ENJOY being at the office a couple of days a week. I'll be out of the house, and giving the orders instead of taking them from a 10-pound, poopy-diapered boss. And there will be adult interaction there, as well, something I have thrived on since I wasn't even an adult myself. I think I'll miss DS like crazy, but I also suspect that missing him 16 hours a week will be a nice change of pace from constantly addressing his every need all day long, every day.
I don't mean to sound like I'm not happy about motherhood or my baby -- I LOVE this baby like I love my own life already, and he's not even here yet. But all the love and concern is sooooooo exhausting, and I just get so overwhelmed that I almost get resentful sometimes. It's not fair that I don't get a choice -- I never chose to love this baby, the love just sprang from some well I didn't know I had, one that's capable of producing worry and obsession over every detail of the life and future of a being that weighs 2 pounds, is maybe 14 inches long, and spends most of its time hiccuping. I LOVE this baby. And it absolutely terrifies me. If I feel this way now, how will I feel when I'm looking into his eyes after I've actually given birth to him? The prospect is frightening.
Seriously . . . is there something wrong with me, or is this just my introduction to the brutal and strangely beautiful world of motherhood? I feel like I'm the only one who has ever felt this out-of-control before. Sometimes I have these calm, wonderful moments, where everything seems just as it should be and I'm filled with joy over the blessings coming into my life. But other times, like right now, I just want to lie down and rage. And I don't know why.
Here ends my bitching post. Ian says to all of you, in conclusion, "KICK." (Or he might have said "HICCUP." It's hard to tell these days.)