Round Two in Inside My Head

I have an appointment with my old infertility doctor next Monday. I wan to at least start the process of planning the next baby. The appointment was actually supposed to be today, but there was some mmiscommunication. Next Monday I will be exactly 33 years and one month old. I’m terrified. I’m frustrated that I have to go through this again. The never ending appointments, the anxiety, the feeling that I’m a damn pin cushion. I constantly berate myself…if we had had children earlier this would not be happening. I love Sam and I am so grateful for him, but I don’t want him to be my only baby. The postpartum depression really knocked me on my ass and I feel like I missed so much.

Sammy’s getting so big. He was ten months old as of yesterday. At his nine mmonth appointment he was 22.5 pounds. He’s become such a hefty little guy. He’s generally so happy and cheerful and sweet. I dont know what I did to deserve this baby. This has been both the longest and fastest year of my life. I once read a quote “The nights are long, but the years are short.” So true.

I love being a mother, but I hate being a working mom. I feel as if daycare gets the best part of my son while I get the leftovers. I see him in the morning when he’s just woken up and somewhat cranky, and in the early evening when he’s tired and very cranky. I’m applying to work at home jobs, but so far no such luck. It’s a little depressing.

I’m currently at work and doing absolutely nothing except writing a journal entry. This job is such a joke. It’s a bonus though because I got virtually no sleep last night. (Thank you Sam…).

Artist