Remember the posts where I talk about how well I’m doing and how awesome everything is and how special I am for being awesome and well and mega-awesome?<\/p>\n
This isn’t one of them.<\/p>\n
This is a post about how I feel like every single day I’m a liar. I have this huge belly that makes people smile and touch and want to talk about. At least once a day- but usually many more times that that- people ask me if this is my first baby*.<\/p>\n
I lie and smile and laugh at their dumb jokes and warnings (“geeeet ready!” “enjoy your sleep noooooooow”) and I do it so I don’t make them uncomfortable. Except it makes me feel like a complete shitheel. As soon as I convinced myself that Tommy Jr wouldn’t care if I lied, and that he’d understand because he is a wise old soul, I realized that I care. I am not a wise old soul. I’m a mother who doesn’t know the first thing about caring for a baby. I’m a mother who doesn’t know their child. Being told everything I don’t know, while helpful and necessary, breaks my heart anew. I feel like a kid always on the verge of a temper tantrum. <\/p>\n
It’s the same old shit really. I should quit crying about it because this is an element that will define the rest of my life. There will always be one little ghost in our family, and I’ll probably always feel more comfortable lying about him. It’s not that I feel like I’m not honoring him- that’s impossible- I honor and love and think about him constantly. It’s something about me. I feel like I’m not honoring my pain and my reality. Like the happy-go-lucky skin just fits better than the grown-up-everyone-suffers skin. <\/p>\n
Boo. Here’s a better piece of news- my count was off. I’m going to be 30 weeks October 21st. Just two and a half more weeks until we’re in the safety zone. I wish I was writing that with the enthusiasm it deserves. Maybe I can chalk some of this melancholia up to hormones? <\/p>\n
*WHY do people always ask that? Can some one please explain why this is such pressing information for strangers? <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Remember the posts where I talk about how well I’m doing and how awesome everything is and how special I am for being awesome and well and mega-awesome? This isn’t one of them. This is a post about how I feel like every single day I’m a liar. I have this huge belly that makes … Continue reading “Redux- Tuesday October 4”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2688","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2688","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2688"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2688\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2689,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2688\/revisions\/2689"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2688"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2688"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2688"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}