(no subject)
[Private]
I'm blaming it on hormones. All of it. I'm even blaming the fact that I'm willing to blame anything on hormones on hormones.
My blow up with Carol? Hormones, exhaustion, and a bit of genuine frustration.
My inability to simply tell my husband I need him? Hormones, and the desperate desire to feel more in control than I actually do right now.
My unexpressed anger at Elaine for not being my mother? Hormones, and maybe a bit of grief thrown in for good measure.
My lack of sex drive, in spite of having an incredibly attractive husband who gives great massage in bed with me for the past few nights? Hormones, exhaustion, and the fact that everything hurts. Also, the acute awareness that I'm the size of a decent sized house right now, and there's absolutely no way that's attractive.
Forgetting to put a stamp on the Pepco bill? Hormones.
The hurt and anger over the fact that no one's shown any interest in throwing a baby shower for me? Hormones, a little bit of greed, and fear that as alone as I feel right now, I'm even more alone than I realized.
It doesn't help that one of the women in my yoga class who was due two weeks before me had her son on Saturday. From the eMail her husband had the instructor read to us, they're doing well, all things considered. Part of me is scared to death by the idea of giving birth too early, but a part of me thinks it wouldn't be that bad, if I knew she'd pull through.
It also doesn't help that my belly button seems to have taken on a life of it's own.
The fact that we're nowhere on a name for the baby is proving stressful as well. I don't mean a first name-- it feels odd to name someone before you even see them, and I refuse to choose a name because what if we pick one and fall in love with it, only to discover that the baby looks nothing like the name we've chosen for her? I'm talking about her last name. Part of me feels like all our problems would be solved if I'd just suck it up and hyphenate myself. God knows I'll be called by his name enough in the years to come, if I hyphenate now, at least I'll be able to maintain some hope of self-identity.
Speaking of self-identity, I've spent half my life defining myself by my work, and no matter how many times Miles and Vikki and David tell me I'm doing great, I watch the tapes and I know I could do better. After the fiasco that was last week's show, I'm not sure a live show's a great idea. So it doesn't help that I'm screwing up in the one area I've always excelled.
Sam's here now, and having him here feels like some kind of treat, as if Christmas came early. Spending time with my husband shouldn't feel like that. If I wasn't under contract, I'd have moved out there before air travel was taken off the table. As much as Dr. Klein's been my savior the past few months, she's no replacement for a husband who's there. And why the hell am I finding it so hard to put into words just how much I wish someone would pick up on the fact that I'm concerned enough about my husband's ability to be there that I asked my mother-in-law to be my birth coach?
Hormones. All of it.
[/Private]
I'm blaming it on hormones. All of it. I'm even blaming the fact that I'm willing to blame anything on hormones on hormones.
My blow up with Carol? Hormones, exhaustion, and a bit of genuine frustration.
My inability to simply tell my husband I need him? Hormones, and the desperate desire to feel more in control than I actually do right now.
My unexpressed anger at Elaine for not being my mother? Hormones, and maybe a bit of grief thrown in for good measure.
My lack of sex drive, in spite of having an incredibly attractive husband who gives great massage in bed with me for the past few nights? Hormones, exhaustion, and the fact that everything hurts. Also, the acute awareness that I'm the size of a decent sized house right now, and there's absolutely no way that's attractive.
Forgetting to put a stamp on the Pepco bill? Hormones.
The hurt and anger over the fact that no one's shown any interest in throwing a baby shower for me? Hormones, a little bit of greed, and fear that as alone as I feel right now, I'm even more alone than I realized.
It doesn't help that one of the women in my yoga class who was due two weeks before me had her son on Saturday. From the eMail her husband had the instructor read to us, they're doing well, all things considered. Part of me is scared to death by the idea of giving birth too early, but a part of me thinks it wouldn't be that bad, if I knew she'd pull through.
It also doesn't help that my belly button seems to have taken on a life of it's own.
The fact that we're nowhere on a name for the baby is proving stressful as well. I don't mean a first name-- it feels odd to name someone before you even see them, and I refuse to choose a name because what if we pick one and fall in love with it, only to discover that the baby looks nothing like the name we've chosen for her? I'm talking about her last name. Part of me feels like all our problems would be solved if I'd just suck it up and hyphenate myself. God knows I'll be called by his name enough in the years to come, if I hyphenate now, at least I'll be able to maintain some hope of self-identity.
Speaking of self-identity, I've spent half my life defining myself by my work, and no matter how many times Miles and Vikki and David tell me I'm doing great, I watch the tapes and I know I could do better. After the fiasco that was last week's show, I'm not sure a live show's a great idea. So it doesn't help that I'm screwing up in the one area I've always excelled.
Sam's here now, and having him here feels like some kind of treat, as if Christmas came early. Spending time with my husband shouldn't feel like that. If I wasn't under contract, I'd have moved out there before air travel was taken off the table. As much as Dr. Klein's been my savior the past few months, she's no replacement for a husband who's there. And why the hell am I finding it so hard to put into words just how much I wish someone would pick up on the fact that I'm concerned enough about my husband's ability to be there that I asked my mother-in-law to be my birth coach?
Hormones. All of it.
[/Private]