15 week low...

I am 15 weeks pregnant today.
The nausea is mostly gone. And last week I had 2 really glorious days of feeling happy and light and ready for anything. It may have been the equally great weather we finally had.

Since then, I've mostly been feeling NOT ready. For anything. I really try not to be a downer, it's so easy for me to be that way, really. But I'm down. I'm feeling crappy about myself. And exhausted always. My 2-year-old doesn't notice, I don't think. It's pretty easy to be pretty cheerful with her. She brings out the joy in me with her happy silly ways. And somehow, I can still be patient with her when she gets angry or scream-y. I put on that mother-y-ness and can patiently discipline. I don't know how this will still happen when there's an infant in the mix and I'm a hundred times more exhausted than I am now. Really, on the days when she tests more boundaries than normal, I do the mommy thing and give the time-outs and the serious, firm eye-contact talks. But then I'm more exhausted and my confidence dips even lower.

I feel like I do what I need to do, but I still feel like I'm treading water a bit. By this point in the blog, my midwife would diagnose me with depression and say it's time for some drugs. It doesn't feel that simple. And I really don't want to expose this tiny baby in me to drugs. Just maybe occasional TUMS.

Thank God for Jer who, on the weekends, cleans and launders, does homework, and basically is two parents to Ava so I can sleep in and sit my tired self down. A lot. Really, I don't think I change one diaper on the weekends. Or wash one dish. And I'm not the brightest light to be around, either. Poor man. I notice I don't make much eye contact, don't really talk much. Lately when he asks if I'm ok, I say things like, "The answer is the same as it's been. I'm tired. I'm pregnant." Or, "I don't have an answer. Stop asking." If I were him, I would ask 'are you ok' all the time, too. I want to be better for him. He compliments me constantly, like always. On my looks, my joy, my mothering...etc. He's amazing for still being so sweet. I guess he just knows me. He knows that I'm hard on myself, and that when I say, "Stop asking," it's not in annoyance at him; it's that I feel bad for acting so depressive all the time, and I don't want to say sad things all the time.

Tomorrow is Monday, and I've mostly been dreading Mondays. Being spoiled all weekend, and knowing that it'll end just... sucks. But I make it, and it's good. Ava is awesome. Even at 6:13am.