Most people probably expect to hear about the first trimester that, "oh, I didn't feel great, but it was fine!"
I'm a terrible liar.
It was a bitch.
Sick-and-tiredness aside, my hormones were out. of. control. My first clue that I was pregnant was when I threw (THREW, I mean) a half-full sippy cup at our refrigerator after storming downstairs while I left First to cry in his crib that he wasn't ready for a nap. Then I collapsed to the floor and started sobbing.
From then until exactly one week ago, the dog kept his distance.
There were days when I would lay on the couch, feeling ill and so, so tired, crying that my child wanted me to play with him. I would think that I was a terrible mother to him, and so therefore would be a terrible mother to this other child. I would think of how terrible it's going to be to endure that exhaustion of the newborn days again, but this time while taking care of First. I would think of how much I still feel like a failure for not being able to breastfeed last time, and how I don't know if I could endure the disappointment of failing again. I would think of how I dread the birth, how I fear that my husband won't be helpful at all.
Then I would think of all of the things that were such a letdown about the last pregnancy. My husband was gone for the last five months of it. I was huge and alone and it didn't seem like a big deal, but I've since realized that we really missed a chance to connect about sharing the birth and early days of new life. I was so stressed about him making it home in time for the birth that I couldn't enjoy myself. I was so stressed about him leaving after the birth, leaving me alone with a newborn, that I couldn't relax.
He did arrive in time for the birth, about 7 hours before we decided to go to the hospital and 16 hours before the baby arrived. He hadn't slept the night before to make it, and was operating on 4 months of sleep deprivation. He left when the baby was 10 days old, and returned two and half weeks later. His mother stayed with me so I wouldn't be alone. And everything was fine. Except for the breastfeeding.
Now that the first trimester has passed, I feel like I can handle a wee one and my big guy. I have the energy to walk the dog. I don't feel like I'm going to pass out at the grocery store. And I'm actually able to have a little fun.
Those days were scary. I had no patience for anything, and sometimes feared that if I lost just a little more control, I would do something I'd regret. I was afraid that my depressive and irritable moods would affect First, causing him to withdraw from me. I asked my healthcare professional about what I was feeling. Perhaps because it was on a good day near the end of the trimester, she said, "I think it's normal" and I said, "Really? OK."
In the throes of it, I believed everything I imagined. But I also prayed it was a trick of my hormones and would pass after week 12. It was, and it did, but I should have talked to someone that first week that I didn't leave the house. Our second of three summers in England is gone.
Hopefully we have a really nice autumn to make up for the rainy summer we've had, so the little guy and I can get out and have some fun together before winter sets in and the baby arrives. It all has to be so much better than the last two months.
Now that the first trimester has passed, I feel like I can handle a wee one and my big guy. I have the energy to walk the dog. I don't feel like I'm going to pass out at the grocery store. And I'm actually able to have a little fun.
Those days were scary. I had no patience for anything, and sometimes feared that if I lost just a little more control, I would do something I'd regret. I was afraid that my depressive and irritable moods would affect First, causing him to withdraw from me. I asked my healthcare professional about what I was feeling. Perhaps because it was on a good day near the end of the trimester, she said, "I think it's normal" and I said, "Really? OK."
In the throes of it, I believed everything I imagined. But I also prayed it was a trick of my hormones and would pass after week 12. It was, and it did, but I should have talked to someone that first week that I didn't leave the house. Our second of three summers in England is gone.
Hopefully we have a really nice autumn to make up for the rainy summer we've had, so the little guy and I can get out and have some fun together before winter sets in and the baby arrives. It all has to be so much better than the last two months.
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