Well, that was a completely exhausting day. I finally got home about 6, and after a second dinner (hehe) I just had to go to bed. My legs felt like lead and my brain was so fried.
Its kind of weird being in this position, but a small part of me is disappointed that he didn’t come last night. I know its better for his health to be in there longer, don’t get me wrong. But this entire thing seems so… draining. Going to appointments twice a week and playing the mental game on whether my son will be ok this week or not. Over-analyzing his kicks. Taking pills every 6 hrs that end up not doing a thing. It seems like every minute of my life is wrapped around this pregnancy, and I’m just sick of it. I’ll do it for his benefit, but I can’t pretend a small part of me wasn’t thrilled to get to ‘the next stage’.
And also, after the initial panic and heartbreak, I sort of got excited. I was going to meet my son! To see his little toes and fingers. To gently scold him for being so difficult, and to tenderly graze his cheek with my fingers.
But I guess it isn’t so. October 4 is just not his birthday.
Amy
(((HUGS))) I remember that feeling, just remember that a little longer will be better.
ReplyDelete