I'm sorry that when you ask me how my pregnancy is going that I don't burst into song about this wondrous being growing inside me.
I'm sorry that there are times when I really ache over the weight I'm gaining and look longingly at cute summer dresses that I won't be able to wear this year. I KNOW I'm not fat but rather that I have an extra person inside of me. Sometimes that logic wins, sometimes the scale does.
I'm sorry that I don't lie awake night after night dreaming whimsical dreams about my baby.
I'm sorry that I don't really pay attention to every nuance of my body or my baby.
I'm sorry that I haven't spent every waking moment thanking God about my pregnancy.
I'm sorry that some days I'm downright depressed about losing my selfish lifestyle.
I'm sorry that the thought of maternity leave and being home all the time scares the crap out of me.
I inherited a multi-faceted personality from my father and I'm very proud of it. My mom is very comfortable with the role of wife and mother and if you asked my opinion about it I would say losing some of that definition is part of the reason she remarried so quickly. She was put on this earth to care for people and God bless her for that. She is VERY good at it. (Any ability I have to love comes from my mother, any ability I have to think comes from my father.) My father, on the other hand, was a farmer who did not fit in any stereotypical box that relates to that. He was also a brilliant mathematician, a historian, well-versed in politics, geography and theology. No, I'm not saying I'm like that (I only wish) but I am someone who needs many parts to my personality. And, not that people should stop asking me about my pregnancy but please don't be insulted when my answers are curt and be aware I would just as soon talk about Survivor or a new recipe I tried or my mom or the movie Crash or my job or my marriage or what I think about the release of Karla Homolka or the issue with the Crocus funds.
And now I feel as though I need to apologize for venting. Yikes! It's neverending.