I have been AWOL for a fortnight now. I keep logging on, meaning to update and tell the latest tales of what’s been going on in our little family, but never quite getting round to it. I always have blogging down in my head as a happy activity, this site is somewhere to share the funny things that happen when a two year old and a burgeoning bump are jostling for their Mum’s attention, but for no real reason the last couple of weeks have been fairly grey.
I’m not being needy, honestly. I have no cause to be sad. In fact I have lots of reasons to be happy. Baby news from a friend, holiday plans and my sister’s upcoming wedding have all made me smile. I am eternally thankful that my pregnancy is progressing normally - baby growing, skin stretching, bra bulging. I rejoice in feeling tiny feet digging in under my ribs, and am much less tired than I was when carrying T.
So why the gloom? Well, can you blame hormones? It feels churlish to complain about nothing whilst others cope with life’s real challenges with dignity and aplomb. Perhaps biology is my ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card. Or perhaps I have caught a dose of toddler irrationalism from T. My bump makes me increasingly public property. Strangers on the street ask whether I know the sex of the baby, parents with buggies in lifts ask how I’m feeling, and the women in the local charity shop reach in for a sneaky pat. I love it, the extra attention, the knowing smiles from other bumps I pass in the corridoor at work, so why then do I feel utterly lonely?
I hate this feeling. If nothing else, it’s just not me. God willing, this will be my last pregnancy. I have nine weeks (and probably more than a few days) left to enjoy it, and it makes me cross that I’m not doing. I shout at T, I bait my husband into snapping at me. I get up, dress and go to work every day hoping that today the sun will peek from behind the clouds, slap me around the face with a wet fish and tell me not to be so stupid. Is this feeling nothing but an expectant mother’s indulgence? Maybe I need to be keeping busier, thinking less. My Mum’s voice echoes in my head … ‘I’ll give you something to really worry about’.
I hope to be back telling tales again soon. In the meantime if anyone knows of a magic enthusiasm tonic, please send it in my direction. I want my voice back, or a kick up the backside. Maybe both.