The storm before the calm
Last night my asshole spouse, and each of my asshole children in turn, including the one who hasn’t even been born yet, woke me up. In their defense, the children are sick, and the fetus is a fetus–I’m sure if it could turn over without waking me, it would. I can’t think of any possible excuse for my spouse, long may he rot in hell.
I have been in the WORST mood for the past couple of weeks. I am not sleeping well and am uncomfortable all the time, so there are obvious causes. But there are also the less obvious ones.
Having had a great many children, I now recognize what appears to be my pattern. At 8 months pregnant, I am fine. At 8.25 months pregnant, I become convinced I will be raising my baby alone, and this anxiety manifests itself as hatred towards my spouse, and extremely unsympathetic and impatient parenting. Then, I mellow out. This is the storm before the calm
…before the STORM.
Today I shared with Mr. Bunny that I feel unappreciated and alone. Part of this stems from the fact that with many children, he just doesn’t have the time to take care of me, plus the novelty of a pregnant wife has most definitely worn off.
But I also think he’s focused on how hard his life is, and how much his world is about to change. And while I acknowledged his world IS about to change radically, he will have brief moments of respite once he goes back to work, and I will not particularly. And my world involves having my abdomen slit open AGAIN, and becoming a milk bag, and feeling brain dead for MONTHS. And what’s more, this little journey we’re on “together” affects me right now, every moment of every day (except when I am blissfully unconscious), not just when I suddenly think, oh jeepers, we’re havin’ a baby! And the majority of those daily effects are negative, like having to plan so that all of my projects can continue without me / with a severely cognitively diminished me, for months and months, and having to do this while unable to sit in a chair because my back hurts too much, and having to spend an hour every damn week on a pointless OB appointment and having endless heartburn etc. whine etc. complain.
In other words, my situation is HARDER than his in some measurable ways. And that these feelings make me extra likely to resent him for every little thing.
Sadly, dumping all this on him didn’t actually change my feelings. He acknowledged that I had a solid case, and was kind, and told me how much he values the miracle of life I’m performing and shit, but it did not make me feel better. I guess part two of this conversation is for me to more fully emphasize: And that’s why you need to comb our child’s hair in the morning and tie it out of her face so that she doesn’t look like a neglect case / not leave your shoes in the middle of the floor / pick up all the god DAMNED CRAP you allow to pile up every damn DAY.