Tired out

This is another one of those posts that has to be deleted before Noah can read.

Today I am really not sure I want to have a baby at all. I know I don't want to be pregnant.

I'm tired. My body aches, especially the hip that was pushed around so much in labour. I wake up in the night because it hurts. I'm heavier than I've ever been in my life ever by many lbs. My life remains in chaos with belongings everywhere, and if I weren't so fucking tired all the time, it would be so much better. I forgot both my keys and my lunch today. I forgot an appointment on Friday. I tried to appreciate grass and sky and trees this morning while watering the front flower bed and I just didn't. Because this pregnancy really sucks. I feel drained. And yes I have been taking my vitamins.

From what I understand, this only gets worse for a while. And today, that worries me.

My nurse says that once I get a live healthy baby in my arms it will all be worth it, but I don't believe her on either count. I hate it when medical people try to reassure me, because I know they're lying. Even if they did do everything right, out of 100 pregnancies, 98 people bring a baby home. Them's the cold, hard facts.

It's whiny-assed but I want my life back, meaning really my almost-indominable zest for it, and I'm kind of scared I'm not getting it back, ever, either way. I don't think I would survive another loss like Emily's and if I don't, then I'm a mum and we all know that means massive change and sleep deprivation and all those things.

Last time I felt ready to deal with that. Today I don't, because this last year - thanks to grief, Carl's job, and real estate - has been nothing like my life. And that was okay when I wasn't drained and tired out, but now I am. And I'm not anyone I recognize right now: tired and cranky and doing most things at the last minute and not particularly well. I organized the move, but the rest of my life turned to mush while I was doing it; living at my parents' was particularly bad. I'm coping more than I am living. And I resent it, today. And a lot of it has to do with sheer physical energy, or lack thereof.

I know that this happens when our collective well runs dry: when there haven't been enough grounding, happy things to fill it up. But there should have been - sitting on the porch, and looking at the lake, and nesting. I've been resolutely focusing on that and I've felt the moments of peace and waited for them to ease the overall fatigue. But it just hasn't happened. And I'm stuck on what to do next. I really think it is physical, and I don't think there's a cure for months ahead.

Of course it may be that once we're really settled in, it will improve. But I'm not holding my breath.

I feel really stuck, in this moment.