I will be 8 weeks tomorrow, which is still so early.
The symptom that's driving me the most nuts, though, is the anxiety. I was hoping that it just happened last time because it was my first pregnancy and I found myself wondering whether I was really going to be a good mom. Now I *am* a mom, so what's one more kid in the mix? But my anxiety has been heightened, especially the last two weeks. Part of that is this horrible stomach flu going around Tai's school. Kids were getting sent home like, three in a day. I spent my days waiting for the phone call that would tell me Tai had thrown up and I needed to come get him. I spent my evenings waiting for him to call me because he'd thrown up in bed. I think I've worn myself out a little, with all of the waiting. It sucks because it makes me short tempered, and wanting to hide out. I have spent a lot of time reading during the past two weeks, and very little time writing. I just can't concentrate on the writing. When I'm reading, it takes me out of myself. I'm pretty sure a lot of this anxiety is hormone related. I know I had more of a hair-trigger with my anxiety during my first trimester last time, too. Fortunately, the second and third trimesters were much easier. Hopefully that will stay true this time, too.
It's funny - I went over the anxiety with Wendy during my therapy session last week, and at the end of the session I said, "I am just so *bored* of this anxiety. It's boring, and it makes me boring." Suddenly I thought, hey - if I'm bored by it... maybe I can just stop. I'm not sure how, yet. I'm working some relaxation techniques. But maybe if I can hold to that thought - that this is *boring*, rehashing the same thing over and over and over and over, ad nauseum (ha ha) - then I can change my mind.
The novel-writing has trickled to a near-stop. I was reading over what I've written so far, trying to figure out what I need to do to pull the pieces together before I move on to the next section... and I just got so fed up. It wasn't bad writing. I just bored myself. I was like, 'yeah yeah, whatever. No one cares.' I'm hoping that this is anxiety related, too. Because it's going to suck sitting with a novel that bores me. I need to finish it, though... at least a draft. I've been working on it so long and I want to know how it ends. Right now, though? Yawn.
I need a vacation.