But it does, nonetheless. Gone are relaxing… well, anythings. And if I DO get something nice and relaxing, I feel horribly guilty because that means I am without my child and that means someone else is being subjected to her terror-like ways. I love her energy, I do, but not being able to hold a conversation, sit at a dinner table or go pick up milk from the grocery store without stopping her from shrieking or flailing about like a drugged up monkey - it drains you after a while.
I miss my body, too. I know pregnancy is “beautiful”, but I hate all the acne I can’t control, and feeling so fat that even maternity clothes don’t fit. And only having 3 options for outfits because I don’t own many maternity clothes as it is… where’s the fun in getting dressed?
Oh, and let’s not forget that I have this magical power that every time I get pregnant, my husband loses his job.
So I’ve come to the conclusion that motherhood just ruins your life. It builds itself back together again - but in a totally different way. You just have to be okay with this new normal. And my normal is about to get rocked again - in approximately 82 days. Curses.
Sorry if your invitation to this pity party got lost in the mail ;)
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