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,
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.
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.