It has been a tough week, I’m not going to lie to you. The diabetes has really gotten me down. The fact that I can’t seem to control my sugar levels even more so. Even though the doctors are monitoring me, and they don’t seem concerned, I’m so worried I’m harming you. I’m so worried that my best isn’t going to be good enough to keep you from harm.
How it all began: Peeing on a stick
There have been lots of tears this week. Lots of unnecessary stress and unprompted tears. I’ve been full of anxiety. I think your Dad’s a bit worried about me. He’s been a bit flat this week too. It’s just so hard when you’re doing everything you should, and it doesn’t work out. Funnily enough, when I haven’t done what I should my levels are fine. I worry that maybe I’m working myself into a stressful frenzy that is actually rising my levels. So, your Dad says, I need to relax. But I’m not sure how to do that on command. I’m not sure how to just let things wash over me. I’ve never been one of those people. I’ve always been someone who thinks about the next few years, who takes charge, who makes plans, who worries about not having enough money, thinks about when I have to do my homework, gets anxious about the prospect of something going wrong. But I don’t want to get worse. It’s funny, I seem to remember a friend getting like this when she was pregnant. I guess at the heart of it I’m just worried about you, and I want to do everything I can to make your life as easy as possible. Maybe me relaxing would do that for you!
Meanwhile, this week you’ve probably heard all the crying quite clearly as now you can begin to recognise voices. Sorry about that! Last night, your Dad got right up to my belly and started talking to you. You kicked him in the face! It was fantastic! He acted indignant, but I think he quite liked it. Putting his lips to my belly and talking to you is the one thing he can do that I can’t, so it was nice. I got a bit teary then too to be honest. I think we can say with some degree of certainty that there are a lot of hormones going on in your third trimester.
It’s funny to think that it will all be over in fewer than 12 weeks. I want it to be over, because I haven’t loved being pregnant, and I want to meet you. But then part of me is sad it’s over. I’m sad that I won’t have you moving in my belly anymore, and that I’ll no longer see the changes that have come over me. I’m also a little sad – and don’t take this the wrong way – that it means your Dad and I no longer have that life of freedom we have enjoyed the last 10 years. We’re so ready for you, and the next steps, but the change that creates is going to be tough. I have to be honest, it is another thing I worry about. I can’t convey enough that I don’t want that to be a statement that drives you to resentment. I want it to be something that helps you realise that those feeling are normal, and perhaps a statement to make you realise just how much I love your Dad, and just how wonderful we were, even before we had you. See? I’m crying again! Wow, missy, these hormones!
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Emphasising with this so much. Especially that feeling of sadness that the pregnancy will be over. I miss being pregnant a little bit, (although it sounds like my pregnancies were both much easier and less stressful than yours have been), and feel a little bit sad that I will very likely never be pregnant again.