My nausea has been down this week, which is lovely but it has made room for new symptoms. Besides the continued feeling of claustrophobia in my own skin, I am also feeling incredibly irritated with people and dogs. The dogs have been the worst though. Bark Lee rolled in something over at the baseball diamond and I have been able to smell him ever since. John insists that he doesn't smell, but my olfactory sensors are firing. Poop remains. Moreover, he has so much energy and is in constant need of attention (with annoying behaviors to try to get it if you aren't giving it to him), I just find him beyond aggravating. Besides this, I have been missing the days when I could get my house spic and span and it would stay that way. Dogs make this kind of cleaning impossible. The minute you remove the barrier, they are off and running into that freshly swept and murphy's oil-soaped floor, dropping their hairs as they go. We have finally gotten them off the couch, which is a wonderful blessing. I hated sitting down and getting thoroughly covered in hairs. But it is spring, and they track in dirt and they love to tear everything and anything apart with their teeth. Woe to the person who leaves the bathroom door open, for he will find that Bark Lee has over-turned and dismembered the contents of the trash can. Worse yet, the recycling is kept in that bathroom and if Bark Lee gets a hold of a plastic container, in this case a cream cheese container, he will shred the thing to pieces underneath the living room table with little help from Tipper. In fact, at this moment, Tipper is simply enjoying laying in the mess.
Talking to other *mothers* has been a bad idea from the start. I have yet to hear another mother tell me about how they, at least at moments, hated their pregnancy and thought to themselves, gee if I'm not able to bear this pregnancy and do the rest of my life, how am I going to be able to raise a child??? I almost always hear cheery stories about how they got through the first trimester by going to sleep at six every night but by otherwise keeping busy with work or school, or were out getting their hair done and having an early mid-life crisis, or they were constantly doing mother and baby yoga and sipping on vegetable juices, or they didn't realize they were pregnant until the first trimester was over, etc., etc. No one ever tells me about how miserable they were and if they mention illness--morning sickness--it's with that little laugh, like, oh well, it's that thing that everyone goes through. No big deal. My version of that is: I've lost myself, where have I gone? I feel crappy (and crabby or even neurotic) nearly everyday. Getting up in the morning is a pain in the butt and I feel incredibly overwhelmed because I don't know how I am going to get everything done that I need to get done. Food makes me tired, but I'm told not to lie down for two hours after eating because I'll get indigestion (which I've discovered is true), yet once two hours pass I'm hungry again and then I still can't lie down. I wish I could eat vegetables (gross!) because everything I read tells me this is the most important time to be eating well, yet if I want to keep things down, I have to follow my body's directive and it has told me clearly "eat eggs and toast for breakfast, don't drink milk or orange juice, bagels go down well, so do pickles and ice cream, only eat pasta, ramen noodles, lentil soup, chicken soup and whatever else I crave once, because after that I will find that food to be gross (so don't buy in bulk)." However, I was able to get down two apples and a carrot two days ago. My whole body just feels sore, and the only place I feel soothed is in the bathtub, which dries my skin out terribly.
Emotionally I have been feeling, like I said, like I've lost myself. I can't find a comfortable space to be in (besides the bath). I just feel off all the time. I never know if I'm going to be goofy or overwhelmed. I never know if I'm going to have patience or be rattled by every little thing that happens. I don't know if I'm going to end up starving or exhausted. These are really unpredictable events. All of this unpredictability makes me feel lonely. I'm not sure what for, I suspect it is security I am wishing that I had. The security of knowing what is likely to happen next. The security of my routine. It's hard for me to relax when everyday is completely different from the last. One thing I've found that is very soothing is cleaning the house and organizing, even though this is NOT what I should be spending my time doing. I should be reading, working and preparing to write my two major papers due in just over a month.
I'm trying to focus on acceptance. God and faith. The solution. Letting God's will and not mine be done. I am also trying to be gentle with myself.
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