As I begin to compare the relationship I’ve had with Carter during his infancy compared to how I relate to Hudson now, I see considerable differences.

[Yes, being a parent the second time around is easier since I've been there before. I am more calm, relaxed and ready for situations that may arise: but even still, this is different.]

When Carter arrived I wasn’t as attached as I had thought I would be. I never was uncomfortable or unsure of our relationship, but I was irritated and resentful more so then I am now. Carter’s cries used to be like nails on a chalk board in the middle of the night where as I find a comfort in Hudson’s. I feel the urge to comfort him rather then resent him for disrupting my sleep.

I remember sitting on the couch with Carter and bawling because I just wanted to go to bed; this time around I find myself relaxed and enjoying the peacefulness of the late night hours: though exhaustion is just as prevalent as last time, it doesn’t consume me like before.

I feel a sense of peace with Hudson.

I wish more then anything I could do back and have that with Carter.

I wish that I could be the calm and relaxed parent I am now when Carter was days old.

But there are no re-dos.

Now that I look back more frequently, I see more signs of my apparent PPD then I thought I had - considering I didn’t even know I had it.

Even though I can’t make up for the times that I wanted nothing more then to shake him as he wailed or the horrible thoughts I had of ways I could make him quite I can, and have, moved forward from there and have become the parent (I hope) that he deserves. I love him more then anything and it pains me to my very core that I had thoughts like that about my child.

The embarrassment I have just for having those thoughts is unbearable: and though they are ‘normal’ - and no one really knows about them since I never shared them with anyone - I can’t help but feel a sense of failure as a parent to Carter during his infancy.

I wish I could forget.

Though I can’t make up for how I was - since it wasn’t even my fault - I can be grateful that I have changed and the depression hasn’t taken control of me again.

God, I wish I had this blog during that time. Maybe having written it all down then would have brought it all to light a little sooner for me. Maybe I would have been able to see it later on, you know, rather then hearing it from a social worker while I was in the hospital a day after giving birth to Hudson.

And here I thought for the longest time - up until about 2 weeks ago - that it was situational depression that brought on my need for anti-depressants and now that my thoughts have cleared, hormones have evened out and we’ve settled into more of a routine it’s become more and more apparent to me that it just might have been PPD instead. It pains me to know that I went through all that ‘alone’ and in the dark since I was never told what I was facing and that only NOW I realize just what has been going on.

Had we not had Hudson, I really wonder if I would ever have known that I suffered from PPD.

Lately I’ve become so indecisive and all over the map about everything.

Like this blog design for instance. I look at it, and it’s nice and all… but then I stop by other sites and see fabulous designs that get me thinking and I wanna change again. It’s not just designing that I’m having creative conflicts with. There’s bedding for the nursery, paint colours which need changing, but to what? And themes. Should I do a theme? Solid colours? A new stroller? Gah!  Can’t ask Mike because everything is just fine and nothing needs change and we can just use Carter’s crib bedding, leave the paint as it is (orange, just so you know) and don’t worry about so much. But it’s fuckin’ orange and that was great 3 years ago when it when with Carter’s Safari theme, but I’m so over that!

And he tells me this as he sits back and relaxes, playing WOW while I struggle give The Toddler a cup of milk AND a cup of water because Oh My God Woman! I Can’t Have Just One Or The Other! I Need Both!

[Computer woes continue in The House of Me. He's hogging it dammit and I can't get any work done on designs! How am I ever going to get hired and do more designs to buy my coveted Flamingo Pink Dell laptop? The Stress!]

It’s a thing of beauty I tell you.

Men just don’t understand.

[I don't understand how us women live longer when men seem to be far more carefree and content with all the little things. How do they manage to die sooner?]

My concentration level at work is declining faster then ever. I find myself reading more gossip sites and blogs online completely distracted instead doing what should be done throughout the day. It’s hard to punch numbers and forecast upcoming work hours when I am fighting off heartburn, having to pee every 5 minutes and getting kicked and punched every which way.

64 days to go until one year of Maternity Leave.

1, 650, 285 days until I can finally watch/read/listen to something that doesn’t talk about the US election.

Seriously. Am I the only person that’s completely over all this election stuff? I know, I’m not American, but yes, the election affects us Canadians almost as greatly as US citizens. Sure, it’s a BIG year; there will either be the first African American President, or the first White Female President (because even though I’m not, I’m Democratic and Republicans just don’t have a chance.) I can’t even twitter without being bombarded by election this, election that. I can’t stinkin’ wait until November now.

Oh happy days.

Did you make it through without getting totally lost? It’s just a well formed mess of words and thoughts and I feel better already.

I can’t wait until I have coherent thoughts again and my brain has some substance again.

Am I just wishful thinking?

Be straight with me. Is there a chance that I can get creative juices flowing again and articulate a sentence that makes sense or am I going to have a Mommy-pregnancy-brain from this point on?

Oh look.

Something shiny!

I know I’ve been such a downer. It can’t be all that entertaining for you (which I can tell by the amount of comments, by the way) and I don’t enjoy it much either. Frankly. I suck.

I was talking to one of my best friends yesterday. And if you’re wondering, yes, I have more then one. Kinda like in high school where you have like, five best friends forever that you tell everything to? Yeah, I have like three friends that I still tell everything to. Anyway, talking to one of those friends yesterday - she’s due 4 weeks ahead of me. She’s the size of a house. I saw her for the first time 2 weeks ago since she found out she was pregnant and I totally thought that she was exaggerating how big she was. But she’s HUGE and it looks really painful.

The point of telling you all that? We vent to each other about how wonderful we’re feeling lately. I think every conversation has eventually come to a point of comparing hemorrhoid/coughing/peeing/pain stories. I guess it helps to know that there are people feeling the same way at the same time.

To make me feel a little better yesterday she thought sending me photos from her stagette and wedding would encourage me to smile and maybe even laugh a little. And, guess what? It worked! Especially this one:

Poor Mike, so so drunk.

And after I finally laughed and felt better, I realized after a good friend pointed it out in my comments - but how I realized it is not the point that I’m damn lucky. Lucky that I have a loving *cough* husband, great friends and the ability to become sperminated at the drop of hat. Getting pregnant hasn’t been hard for me, neither was my first pregnancy. This time’s been harder because it’s well, crappy. I don’t do sick well and being sick while pregnant has been a nightmare. It’s been super hard on me, my body, my family and my friends mainly because I just don’t shut up about it.

But I do realize how lucky I am. I really, really do.

I know there are people who deal with infertility, secondary infertility, and down right difficult pregnancies that I really have nothing on if we were to compare the hardships. I don’t want people to think that I’m not ecstatic about having another child to cut the grass or shovel the driveway and I couldn’t fathom hurting someone I care about because I’ve complained that gestating my latest child labourer has been hard on me - physically and mentally. Everyone’s journey to extending their workforce family is different and taxing in it’s own way; mine is no different. I just tend to bitch more then others is all. I am a whiny bitchy person by nature. I can’t help it. Blame genetics.

So even though I will bitch and moan and complain about everything and anything, I’ll keep it light hearted and maybe worthy of a few comments here and there *GUILT TRIP! GUILT TRIP! GUILT TRIP!*

Then maybe I’ll share some more gratuitous and pointlessly stupid drunk photos of me:

It wasn’t my intention at all. I didn’t want to sit here and vent about how uncomfortable I am lately, or how I have been sick for over 6 months off and on and how I’ve been lacking in anything positive to say about any aspect of my life. But that’s the great thing about blogging, no? It’s a spot where I can get it all out: stuff I may not be entirely comfortable saying face to face with someone in my real life. I can just write and if they read, well, then they know what it’s like to be me at the moment.

There are many aspects of Pregnancy Number Two which have been less then appealing and had they occurred during Pregnancy Number One there would not have been a Pregnancy Number Two - or it would have been delayed far longer. Stepping into this journey of having another child I was naive to think that everything would be hunkie-dorie  like the first. No morning sickness, normal energy and I’d look and feel fabulous throughout.

Wrong.

Am I the only one that was this delusional to think that everything would be perfect again only to have all my hopes come crashing down around me and find myself with 78 days remaining and all ready counting down to delivery?

I know a dear bloggy friend blogged about her ups and (mostly) downs throughout her second pregnancy. I was in awe about how positive her posts sounded even though I’m sure she was about ready to do harm to anyone who got in her way. I just can’t seem to do that, I can’t seem to find the positive in anything about this pregnancy right now. (Maybe I need more Chai Tea Lattes,  eh Haley-O?)

I only have slight glimpses of positive when I feel a kick or moment and realize, yes, this is what I am doing it all for.  This is only a small blip (that lasts what seems like forever). The bladder control pads won’t be worn forever, the coughing too shall pass, and the discomfort while sitting/standing/walking all too shall pass.

For the moment though? It all fuckin’ sucks and I’m just miserable.

I’ve been searching for something positive that will make me a little more comfortable and happy about this pregnancy, and as I write this, I’ve realized - to this day, I haven’t bought a thing for this baby which I’m sure makes a huge difference. Maybe an outfit? New crib bedding? A toy? Something. Maybe getting something for this baby will alleviate some of these blah feelings I’ve been having.

A light has come on people! This is a breakthrough! Seriously, right this second that came to me. I could be like Dr. Phil or something (better).