The best news of the day is that I haven't been nauseous in three days. (And that I spelled "nauseous" correctly without any dotted red lines under it!)
The worst new of the day is that I have some form of the Baby Blues. I am reminding myself of those awful postpartum depression days when, right after Will was born, I would cry inconsolably about nothing at all, really. It was just...sadness.
So on my last Monday of summer vacation, why on earth was I sad?
The honest truth is that I have no idea.
One minute, Will and I were building blocks, and the next I was crying. Will laughed at me. I asked for a hug, and he ran away laughing. So I cried some more.
While he napped, I cleaned up lunch and cried some more.
I googled "first trimester depression" and came across this blog, where I felt comforted, laughed, and then cried.
I laid down with my favorite dog, Cooper, who seemed to know that I needed him to put his head on my shoulder and cuddle up against me. His intuition made me cry yet again.
What in the world is going on with me? When I think of people who struggle to become pregnant, and would do anything to feel and experience what Fertile Myrtle here has been lucky enough to now do twice, how on earth can I be sad?
And then the day began to turn around...
Upon texting my blues to my dear friend, she packed up her daughter and came for a visit.
I was able to find a sub (who wouldn't be blubbery and blue) to teach my class tonight.
And then Greg came home and doted on me and made spaghetti. If you can believe this, we haven't made spaghetti since we lived in Mariemont. Isn't that bizarre? It gave us an opportunity to reminisce about family spaghetti nights growing up, and an even better opportunity to watch Will get messy--and ask for thirds!
So now here I sit, content, and wishing with all my might that the Baby Blues were washed away with tonight's dishes.
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