Well, after a day of being blue and uber paranoid, Peanut is back to kicking up a storm.
Maybe she was just resting yup for Super Bowl? Or maybe he was just taking a lazy Saturday. Whatever it was, Mommy was a mess.
For a good 12+ hrs there was no movement coming from my little tenant - and of course, being me that sent me into a massive emotional tizzy. I woke up feeling very blue. I had slept all night, not something I am used to these days as I am generally up a few times between 11 - 6am thanks to bladder needs and internal somersaults. So 9am rolls around, sun streaming in the windows, birds chirping. A beautiful winter weekend morning, and all I wanted to do was cry. I had no good reason to worry or be concerned but something in me was giving me bad vibes. I tried to push it aside.
I got up, made a super yummy breakfast of Mexican Tofu Scramble and fed my belly, thinking this may wake up the little squirt.
I did some laundry, I read, I stared blankly at the TV, I napped. Still nothing, not even a gassy bubble.
I cried. I was convinced something was very wrong. P was a star. He rubbed my back, hugged me, tried to offer reassurance and asked if I wanted to call the Dr.
I didn't want to do anything. I wanted to feel little kicks in my ribs and belly button. I wanted to feel my baby moving and grooving. I didn't want to think anymore about negative possibilities, but I couldn't get them out of my head. Horrible images ran through my brain, sadness washed over me. I felt empty and so lost. I was sure this was the end.
I got bitchy and argumentative. I took it out on P. I acted like a cow until I went to bed at 11pm.
And then at 1am I cried again. Tears of joy. Peanut was kicking the shit out of me, rolling and flipping and she didn't stop till 6am, and only then for a slight reprieve before gearing up again, he's doing jumping jacks even as I type this.
So all is well. I can relax.
But clearly I cannot, and no matter how chill or melow I think I am while navigating this pregnancy, that is simply not the reality. I am a paranoid, worried, scared mess of a woman. I never anticipated my losses and struggle would have left such a long lasting impression on my mental state. I thought I had come to terms with all that had happened last year. I am now 25 weeks, fully thought all of this would have passed by now.
Ha! Wishful thinking ... worry will be my middle name - now and forever.