Sunday, 24 April 2016

23 Weeks Pregnant.

I can handle the seemingly constant tiredness. 

I can handle working my 12 hour shifts and coming home with feet so achey they feel like they're burning with every step. 

I can handle being 2 stone heavier than I was pre-pregnancy (might be more, I've stopped looking). 

I can handle having nothing to wear, and living in leggings and my husband's massive Gap sweater. 

I can handle having sore boobs because every bra I own is too small, making me look like I have a UniBoob. 

I can handle having an achey back.

I can handle being most uncomfortable in the evenings when I want to relax on the sofa and I can't. 

I can handle having to pee every two minutes because it seems the baby is tap dancing on my bladder. 

What I CAN'T handle, is this endless state of erratic emotions. Bursting into tears at the most inappropriate of moments. A nice comment at work, an advert on the tv, and most recently a floor routine from the gymnastics I was watching on YouTube. 

I'm sure I wasn't like this during my first pregnancy. It comes out of absolutely nowhere. Watching tv, middle of the football, at playgroup. 

Tell me it gets better, yeah? 


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