With all my free time to think, I've reflected a lot about the road I've travelled over the past four years. My first pregnancy was a dream come true. I had no complications. I felt really good, even up until the end. I had no trouble keeping up with my work even when I was overdue. I continued to go to the gym and take an aerobics class, up through the week past my due date. I gained well over 60 pounds but didn't stress about it. I had no fears of having a panic attack during labor. I didn't worry about having a male doctor. I was on top of things and good to go.
This time has been different. A more complicated pregnancy. No working out at all. I'm in the worst shape of my life. I'm stressing over the 35 pounds I've gained (although with the extra weight I started with, I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life). I worry about anxiety attacks during labor. I'm exhausted too.
However, despite things being tough, I'm handling them pretty good. I am allowing myself to cut back at work, and even doing so without feeling guilty. I asked for a continuance from a court appearance without feeling the need to invent some excuse. I just told them I was not up to coming. And not one person said anything negative. My numbers at work are actually really good. My house is a mess and I don't care. There are several things on my "to do" list that will not get done, and I'm okay with that. I have no idea of the plan for after baby gets here as far as my in-laws and people helping, but I'm okay with that too.
I don't know where my former-uptight-can't relax-self went, but she can stay gone. I'm kind of liking this new creation.