Thirtysomething

I can't believe I've managed 30 weeks of gestation tomorrow. When I think of the torture of those first 12 or 13 weeks, how we expected every scan to reveal the worst, I'm amazed we've come this far. Bad Boy moves pretty much constantly and apparently has strong opinions as to how I position myself at my desk, on the sofa, in bed. If he doesn't like it, he lets me know. Or I could be wrong; he could be doing little happy dances to let me know he likes my choice of posture. I can't be sure.

I'm so happy to still be pregnant, but I have come to realise just how much damage my miscarriages did to my psyche. I'm no longer the relatively easy-going and forgiving person I once was. These days I am quick to judge, I don't suffer fools gladly, and I find myself getting very irritated by things that would never have bothered me before. I keep people at a distance more than ever now. I was never a truly gregarious person, but I was always friendly. Now, I find I have to force myself to stay in touch with all but my best friends and as for making new ones, I'm just not interested. Most people just annoy me. Or that's what I tell myself. The truth is something altogether deeper, I'm just not sure what it is. Maybe some fear of getting close to someone. Two very close friendships have ended this year (my handiwork, though not, I feel, without provocation). One was a direct result of the miscarriages; the other when I realised that I just couldn't be what this person needed me to be. So maybe I'm just scared of having to make that decision again? Or maybe I am just a stupid, arrogant bitch, as someone called me recently (a total stranger; nice).

I'm bitter, there's no escaping that. I feel angry a lot, and I'm worried I'll end up one of those old women who scares everybody, and whose house the neighbourhood kids egg when they're not spreading rumours about how I live on cat food and bourbon. Yet I don't know how to change!

My only hope is that I'm still pregnant. Maybe, somehow, seeing my son for the first time will help dissolve some of this latent rage, this blackness I feel for everyone and everything. Or maybe it will  be the start of post partum depression that will just consolidate it all. I'm really scared of what I'm feeling.