DS woke at 5 this morning, has nearly killed me. Sooooo tired and then incessant arguing when OH woke up, really can’t deal with this shit when I’m feeling this crappy. Why do they not think? Why is it all about them? Why is it when you become a mother your needs cease to be even considered, and yet all the books tell you (the woman, the mother, the one who has no time left for herself, the one who has no thought left that isn’t focused on the safety and happiness of her child) to make their OH feel included and wanted. I’m sorry, I thought we lived in the 21st century. What about me?! I don’t expect anything from my 2 yo but I do expect a modicum of respect from the 40+ yo I share a house with I kind of expect him to appreciate what I do (not that I expect thanks), appreciate how I feel right now, to bloody well help a little bit. I would say it’s hormones and I suppose my total lack of ability to tolerate it as I usually do is down to them, that and complete exhaustion. I’d like to see how they’d cope feeling sick from the moment they wake up to the moment they fall asleep, the debilitating exhaustion that plagues the first trimester and on top of that a very lively 2 yo to look after solely on your own. It’s funny that the one person who’s supposed to have chosen to love you soon becomes the one person who appears to hate you the most. I truly wish my parents were still alive, I really could do with a hand right now.
Sorry, I digress. Needed that little rant. I’m a little stressed today, morning started with no nausea so of course I worried, then the nausea kicked in and then I’m praying for it to leave again lol. I’ll never be happy. Boobs still incredibly sore, especially when DS latches on though once on its fine, those couple of seconds is truly agonising. I wonder whether he’ll self wean when my milk turns back to colostrum (allowing myself to skip ahead of myself there, shame on me).
Anyway let’s home today improves, the sun is shining so will try and come up with an exciting plan for this afternoon with the hope my stomach behaves.
223 days to go