The Fog.

In looking back through my baby book (aka, this blog) I discovered a very obvious pattern. As my post about Mitch indicates, at 8 weeks of pregnancy, I am on the brink of mental breakdown. I am not functional. I am in pure, day to day. No, minute to minute. Really, breath to breath, survival mode. In fact, for 5.O, I briefly wrote down some thoughts as I went to bed, probably around 8pm, crying on October 7th (2 days before 8 weeks).

First draft, exactly as written:
My Heart is stone.
My belly aches.
I dread sleep, but even more,
Being awake.

I should be happy.
Overjoyed. Celebrating life.
Instead I fear morning, that first
break of light.

Stay tough, smile
Put on your pleasant face.
Because come evening,
Bitterness takes it's place.

Then, it seems, I may or may not write a couple more posts,  mostly complaining, listing symptoms, feeling sorry for myself, until 11 weeks.  A light can be seen. Though I remain in the throws of first trimester symptoms, something changes. Maybe a slight increase in energy. Maybe a slight boost in the functioning of the ol' GI tract. Whatever it is, I even felt good enough to order a GRANDE latte from Starbucks today!!  I went a few weeks totally coffee-free. I am actually excited to spend Halloween with my boys tonight, in our new neighborhood. I had my first OB appointment a couple days ago, and baby had a raging, wonderfully audible heartbeat of 165.

Of course, with everything being so perfectly in line with the previous four pregnancies I can't help but assume I am gestating another fantastic O'Laughlin boy. Though, there does seem to be a spectrum, and I grade it on weight loss (I'm at 10lbs currently)...therefore, in order from most to least torturous pregnancy, the rankings are thus: Brock, 5.O, Curtis and Mitch tied, George. Curtis and Mitch nearly tied in weight as well. And body type. So, perhaps my goal of another baby under 9lbs is possible!!

Anyway, I am just glad to be approaching the end of this trimester. I am overjoyed that I have emerged from the last 5 weeks of my clinical depression. I am ecstatic to meet this guy in May. Though, I would never have picked this spacing for my children. I mean, seriously, 5 kids in 6 years is a bit nuts, I truly love it all. In the words of a 5 year old "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."  I'm trying my best to abide.