Despite a rather shitty relationship with pregnancy and infants in general, I find myself pregnant again - on purpose. It's important to note that I chose this because then I can hassle myself for choosing something I literally hate every minute of and make myself even more miserable.
Everything has been the same so far: nausea, bloating, constipation, extreme exhaustion, insomnia, weird leg spasms, cystic acne, - you know, all that fantastically beautiful pregnant woman shit.
I'M FUCKING GLOWING OVER HERE.
This time around is different though, I'm not reading anything about pregnancy, I'm not checking my stupid Ovia and BabyCenter apps every goddamn second of the day. I'm not watching lisp girl or black shirt glossy lip lady tell me about the formation of genitals or the fact that this thing has fingernails.
It's not that I don't care - I just... don't really care.
I'm already super insecure about my body again. I feel like I formally broke up with my body for a bit there, like - you know what body - it just isn't working, I don't know you anymore. I gave it some space and it came back around and it was like, 'look, I've changed.' And it did. But it did in the same way that Coke Zero did.
Coke Zero Sugar isn't the fucking same.
You know what my body felt like at its best so far after having a kid? Edgar from Men in Black. You know, the farmer who has the giant alien roach wear his skin and ask his wife for "SUGAR. GIVE ME SUGAR. IN WATER. MORE. MORE." That's the peak.
I was feeling pretty good about having a big ass fucking roach alien wearing my body as a skin suit. I mean, it was close enough just a little bigger in some areas than it used to be and a lot more floppy.
But now it's not mine again or the huge roach's. It's this baby's body and damn if this baby isn't stripping it down and plumping it up.
Nobody has really asked me what my biggest fear is this time. Maybe it's too early? Maybe people think if you've done something before for some reason you're not shitting your pants about it the second time? My fears this time are as follows and in order:
That's it. Other than that - I'll deal with whatever. I just don't want to die or go back to the darkness of depression.
I know I could crawl out from under it again if I have to, but I really, really don't want to.
There's part of me that already feels a little slippage. My thoughts are a little too quick, my sleep is a little too easily interrupted, my eyes are a little too out of focus. Small things. The days I choose to bypass them are golden, but sometimes I linger and over analyze and I think maybe I'm already drifting that way.
I'm trying to figure out how to keep myself from catching wind.
I don't want to blow away again.