I’m pregnant; again.
Well I’m due in about three months, so it’s not exactly ground breaking news to the people around me, or for anyone with a pair of oogling eyes.
I’m about as comfortable as you’d expect at 27 weeks. Don’t even mention the possible depression and anxiety on top of it.
I was convinced that this time, this time i’d gotten rid of it for good, this time would be different. But now? Now I’m not so sure.
I’m angry a lot. Every little thing gets to me; hormones aside.. And it hurts being this angry.
I don’t feel like I have anyone to talk to about it either. All my fears and insecurities. Don’t even get me started on all my irrational constant negative thoughts.. “Why bother; no one’s going to understand anyway..” has become my mental mantra. The only difference is that this time I’m too weak to speak up against it.
It’s depressing as hell. It’s excruciatingly painful. And did i mention, that every little thing makes me want to punch a hole through the wall? I. Hate. This.
Who the hell wants to listen to what I have to say? Who will want to hear about all my confusion, frustration and desperation? To listen to my ever confusing thoughts?
What if this baby comes early as well? What if if delivery breaks me, both mentally and physically? What if I don’t feel safe? What if I can’t feel that I love my own child, again?
What if I get post partum depression again?
Sure I love my oldest, now. It took me a little over a year to actually feel that I love him.. And the truth is, it still hurts.
I’m sure it was painful for the both of us.
I know my anger is painful for the both of us.
It makes me wonder if the decision of a second child was the right one. I’m so scared of screwing my kids up, just like my parents, my family, did with me.
I’m putting my fiancé through hell, but I don’t know how to stop. God knows I want to. I just don’t know how to do it.
I want out. I want to be selfish, but I can’t. And deep down? I know that it’s just my mental state speaking. I wish someone understood. I wish someone got where I’m coming from.
I can’t put up the bed, I can’t pack my bag for the hospital, I can barely touch the baby clothes. My first instinct is to just push past, put it behind me.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
At first, yes. In the long run? Nope. It’s all catching up with me now, slowly and all at once.. I don’t know how to deal with any of this.
I’m hurting. I don’t want to sleep. I feel alone. I wish someone knew..
I’m falling apart..