My belly is bruised. I've been in a huge funk lately. Not being productive at work, at home, in our relationship, etc. We have been bombarded with family lately, and luckily it's turned out to be OK. I think most of the time, I psyche myself up for a miserable time because I think I don't want to see family, but really they rejuvenate me. We are one of the extremely rare and lucky couples that has sensitive, tactful, kind, and supportive family members on both sides of the family. Not to say that I want one of them to move in with us, but the weekends they stay here are really fun, contrary to what I thought.
I've always thought bare belly maternity pictures were weird and awkward. I want the belly, (more than I ever thought I would), but having pictures of the skin exposed just kind of weirded me out before. Now, I want a picture of every mark, bruise, scab, and stretch mark so that one day I can say "Look at what I did to get you here. Don't ever doubt my love for you."
The reality is, this baby is worth every single shot, pill, meltdown, and tear. I would do all of this again and again if it meant being a mother to my child.
I have to write this down because our second shipment of meds came yesterday. Mr. told me I wasn't allowed to look at the new needles. That means they're big. And so, while I'm having this rose-colored glasses approach to shots, I should probably document it because heaven knows it's not going to last! Stims start in 2 days!! Shot class tomorrow.
My belly says, "Bring it on."
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