I really hope the next three days go by quickly. I am freaking out a little. I keep getting way ahead of myself, worrying about money and space and maternity leave and then I’m just laughing at myself because what could possibly be the point of this conjecture? Part of me thinks there is every reason to believe everything will be just fine, and part of me thinks there’s no chance in hell of seeing a heartbeat on Thursday, and I cannot tell which part is larger or louder or winning this pointless argument. For periods of time I’m fine, relatively calm and able to either distract myself or even actually enjoy the idea that maybe, just maybe, this could work out and be okay. But I can’t seem to sustain it. The negativity and doubt creep in and take my breath away. I can generally get back to an even keel but dammit, it is unnerving. I wish I could go to bed tonight and wake up Thursday morning.
I forced myself to go shopping yesterday. All I could bring myself to buy was a bunch of oversized sweaters that in theory will work for a while whether Thursday goes well or not. I couldn’t even bring myself to try on any jeans, let alone look too hard at anything in the maternity section. I walked through the baby section trying so hard to find something that I could justify, something unisex and not specific, a generic onesie, some socks (teeny tiny socks are my favorite), something, anything. I couldn’t do it. I AM hopeful, but I feel like…a fake, somehow. Like I don’t have the right to even use the word maternity, let alone use it in referring to anything to do with myself.
What will be, will be. I just really hate the not having a clue part.