Yesterday was just too ridiculous to not be noteworthy. I woke up early—6:45, to be exact—with unusual gusto. 7:45 comes around, and I’m falling asleep standing up. Off to bed I went to sleep for another hour. I proceeded to follow this pattern for the rest of the day. Needless to say, I was not very productive. I felt so bad when Joey came home from work, and all I could do was stare mindlessly while he checked my car’s tire pressure, finished up making chicken stock, and made supper. In my state of mind, all I saw was Mr. Perfect showing me just how much I had failed to accomplish in a day. It all led up to a big pity-party for me. “Why can’t I do anything? All I do around here is sit around and get fat. I’m so sorry you have to do all of this. How can you put up with me?” Such were my continuous complaints, which Joey endured for quite a while with silent stoicism. Dripping water will eventually wear down the hardest rock, however, and finally my good-natured husband stated, with a tone bordering severity, “Andrea, you are sick and pregnant! I don’t hold any of this against you!” Thus I was silenced.
The moral of the story:
- I can’t expect myself to do everything I did before pregnancy
- I have a very attentive, very capable husband who loves me despite all the changes I’m going through
- it’s ok to ask for help and let others take care of things I can’t do!
Stay tuned for further late-pregnancy meltdowns.
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