This will be another post I am afraid will come off negative, but I’m accepting this about myself. I had my second midwife appointment yesterday and discovered I have gained a great deal of weight in the last five weeks. Granted, I’m pregnant. I’m aware of this. But the combination of eating garbage, not exercising from exhaustion, and weaning Vi has had disastrous results. I know I’ll do better by next month.
It wasn’t just being depressed about the weight gain that got me upset yesterday. I think stepping into that office made the pregnancy seem more real. And not in a “wow what a beautiful and miraculous and mysterious miracle is birth” kind of way…more like…”Holy Cow! I get to be pregnant again and go into unthinkable pain…again. Yay?” I’m freaked out about the stuff I don’t have control over. Like the person who has to leave my body eventually–I have no control over that. Losing a grip on my eating habits was one thing I could control, and I feel like I blew it. My husband reminds me I put too much pressure on myself so I’m trying to press on and make good choices.
Today was day one of good choices. I was doing fine until my toddler decides its sheer torture to be strapped into a carseat. We had a roundtrip 1.5 hours in the car, and the veggie sticks only kept her quiet so long. I was so frazzled 2 minutes into the drive back that I pulled into the Wendy’s drive thru, convincing myself she would eat an entire nuggets meal herself? Silly. She did eat quite a bit of it, but I ate the rest. Being pregnant the second time around is so different with another child. I took for granted all the freedom I had to do yoga, nap, or whatever. I was working at the time, but I could “check out” in my brain. And paperwork doesn’t scream at you all day like a child does. Very different dynamic.
In short, I’d like to skip the pregnant stuff and the labor, and get to the part where we get to meet our new baby. That will be cool.