Different Baby

This pregnancy has been different to Nathan’s in so many ways. Firstly, it has gone so much more quickly. With Nathan, I was waiting. The whole ten months seemed to go so slowly. Practically every day I knew exactly how many days were left, and they dragged by. This time around, the first twelve weeks were an eternity. Having a diagnosis of PCOS over my body brought an increased miscarriage risk, and my anxiety levels during that time were sky high. Of course, there is no antenatal support during that time, and barely anyone knows that you’re pregnant. I found out super early, so it was about two months of personal fear.

But since that point, I blinked and suddenly I was 19 weeks. Then I blinked again, and I was nearly 30 weeks, and here I am at 35 weeks wondering how I got here so quickly! And I am so relaxed.

Throughout my first pregnancy, I was a sponge. I read, and I researched. I soaked up every bit of information and every story that I could. Going into the birth, my head was full of facts and knowledge. This time around, I know everything I feel I need to know. My beliefs and opinions are solid, and I’m confident to fight for things to be how I want them. I don’t need to read anything else. I don’t need to research anything else. I am comfortable in this. And that has led to a complete lack of preparation. We suddenly realised about a week ago, that we had nothing organised. No names. Now we have one. Of six names that we have to pick, we have one.

Last pregnancy I had severe depression. I have no idea how I survived that time. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing less than a miracle that both Nathan and I are here today. This time around, being so aware of that, I have been proactive in ensuring my head space stays clean. That it is uncluttered and focused. And when I feel my thoughts start to slip, I am proactive about getting them back up out of the dirt. Talking to Tim, and my support team. And it’s been good.

The last few weeks I have been in a slump. Tired and over everything. The house just never seems clean enough, and I don’t have enough time to do uni. I’m feeling like I’m letting everyone down. I am such a perfectionist. I really need to learn what good enough feels like.

That said, I have been feeling more competent in myself. I’m confident driving, confident in keeping the house running well. I’ve even been cooking quite a bit more than before. And we have been creating memories quite often. So part of me is proud of where we have come, even in the last three months. I just need to stop looking at the pile of clothes waiting to be folded, and accept that the housework is never going to end. There will never be a point where absolutely everything I want done, is done. And to be honest, if I did reach that point, then I would feel lost.