The temp agency hasn’t found me another assignment yet.
My old supervisor called and asked me to sign a non-disclosure agreement.
My veins are tiny and it took about 4 tries to get the blood flowing for my glucose test.
I’ve officially been diagnosed with gestational diabetes.
I haven’t told my husband yet because I know he’s going to pitch a fit and blame me. I know I have to say something, but I’m tired of feeling like I’m a bad mother.
I can no longer have the kind of birth I want. The birthing center won’t do my prenatal care anymore.
I hate hospitals.
I told my parents I was thinking about having a home birth and my mother told me I was talking foolishness and making a joke out of it.
I do not want to have my baby at a hospital. I hate needles. I don’t want pitocin or an epidural or a c-section.
I feel so unprepared for my son’s arrival. His room isn’t ready. His clothes aren’t washed. We don’t even have his crib yet, and the light in his room still doesn’t work.
My excitement for my shower is diminished. I just want the baby to be here and for everyone to go away.