Two AM I found myself hugging my toilet, losing the meal that I had awakened at midnight feeling that I desperately needed to eat. I am very happy to be feeling all of the symptoms of pregnancy, for it means that I get to enjoy this baby. However, puking incessantly each night is neither fun, nor likely to allow me adequate nutrients. I do not know whether to be very happy that I am getting to have all of these symptoms, or grossed out every time I leave a puddle of puke on the grass or in a sink or a toilet. I am horrified that I might end up needing to puke somewhere far from a toilet, such as in the middle of class. So far, this has yet to happen, for which I am grateful. I worry about too many things, I suppose, such as worrying that I will be a horrible mother, or that I will be alone while raising this childe, or that I will harm this childe in some major and lasting way…Worry…Worry…Worry…And on a completely unrelated subject, there is a Sonic commercial that makes fun of bloggers…grrr…But I will be trying to learn to be still. This is a goal of mine: to focus on whatever it takes not to go insane. If I love this baby, which I do, I need to be the best mommy I can be. This can be accomplished by getting the fuck over the shit I have been through and learning to live each day one at a time. Furthermore, if I love Robert, which I do, I need to leave him be. He knows he needs to do right by me, but trying to force him to do so only leads to fights. I just worry about too many what-ifs…But life goes on. Beccy Cole–Saw a friend the other day, I hadn’t seen in quite a while. I remember when she used to smile. I listened to her story, broken promises and shattered dreams, told me things ain’t always what they seem. When I gave her my sympathy, she said living with regret is something that comes naturally. Sometimes you gotta roll with the punches. Sometimes you go against the grain. Sometimes your hard work pays off. Sometimes it’s all in vain, but no matter what you endure, rest assured life goes on. Life goes on.
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