Basically I'm trying to figure out why I ever thought having kids was a good idea.
And if I really wanted them so badly, maybe we should have just adopted them.
I am rarely sick and I hate being that sick person, whiny and dependent. I show up. I power through. I do things I don't feel like doing and get them done and don't complain.
(The DDH may view me slightly differently...perhaps I should amend it to say I don't complain, except to him.)
But this. I'm exhausted. I'm sick. My allergies are worse than ever (turns out Claritin is nowhere near as effective as Allegra. Obviously it's the ingredient that actually works that's harmful to the baby). I drag myself out of bed twenty minutes before I have to leave for work. I sit at work staring at the computer, willing myself not to throw up--or fall asleep. I drag myself home again. I can't stand up for more than five minutes without feeling like I'm going to pass out. Eating makes me sick. Not eating makes me sick.
I'm in a bad mood all. the. time. Every time things get tense with my boss I just want to walk out and quit. Even though he's actually been relatively sane lately and making me feel indispensable. Which makes me feel worse and more conflicted about the fact that I do still intend to quit.
I haven't told anyone (other than immediate family) because I'm scared--scared of how my boss will react, scared that I'll miscarry, scared of being the center of attention when I usually do my damnedest to disappear into the wallpaper--so for all anyone knows I'm just being lame lately for no reason.
I skipped C-Fit yesterday not because I didn't want to work out--though truly I was exhausted and sick-feeling and not sure it would have been a good idea to jump around in a class where, again, I just look weird for not doing everything full out the way I used to--but because I got depressed and convinced myself no one else in the class likes me and they would all be happier if I didn't come.
I just don't want to do this. I'm scared of labor. I'm scared of newborns. I know what I'm like when I'm sleep-deprived, and it's not pleasant for anyone involved.
The DDH is pretty much the best darling devoted husband ever in the history of husbands. Although he admits that he's sad not to have homecooked meals all the time anymore, he doesn't complain about it. He does the dishes and empties the dishwasher and on Saturday he even vacuumed. He hugs me when I cry for no reason and tells me that it's okay for me to complain.
So of course all that just makes me feel worse. I should be better and more deserving of him. I should at least cook him dinner occasionally.
And why should I be whining? So I don't feel great. Tough. Lots of people feel worse. I could be (and, I suppose, at some point will be) feeling just as bad but have a toddler running around I have to care for. I should just toughen up and do things anyway--
But then my head spins and my heart beats too fast and I sit back down before I faint or throw up and nothing gets done and I am the most useless, pathetic weakling ever.
I can find grace and empathy and understand and reassurance for everyone.