After a fraught evening and night, I’m feeling a little better this morning. Around dinner-time I started getting pains in my back and lower abdomen. They felt like probably muscular and intestinal, but at this stage everything is so squished together and connected down there and my anxiety went into overdrive.

After a visit to the maternity emergency room exactly a week before, I didn’t really want to go in again, all dramatic and worried. And even though I knew that I could call for advice, my experience is generally that if there’s even a shadow of a doubt, they’ll say to come in. And if they say they’re recommending to come in, then I’m for sure going in.

So my gut (pardon pun) was telling me that it was something that would pass, but I couldn’t switch off the part of my brain shrieking “what if you’re wrong? what if you’re wrong?” over and over again.

I eventually got to sleep sometime after 1am, having distracted myself with New Sabrina on Netflix for hours of hallowe’en fun.

But it feels like I’m living a shell life when I have a few of these evenings in a row. I feel like I’m getting a tiny fraction of “day” out of my days and the rest of my time is just spent riding things out – being a vessel for this parasite I’m growing.

The love is not there yet, for this new baby you know. But what is present is a fierce and determined protective instinct. I can’t disengage from the feeling of being on high alert the whole time. I’d forgotten about this time, but now that I’m recalling it, I also recall that it lasts for a few years after birth as well, when it’s exacerbated by the love as well.

I’m also fearful about birth time and something going wrong and potentially dying and leaving a husband and three children without me.

And when I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about something being wrong with the baby.

And right at the end of the worry list – just a minor thing, but something my brain has decided to get a bit obsessive about is establishing breast-feeding. Because it didn’t work out the last time and I’m determined to try again and I really really want to. I mean, it’s pretty minor in the grand scale of things, but it’s still feeling important to me.

Anyway, I reckon my obsession quota is done with for the morning. It might help me to turn my mind to the day at hand. Things I should do:

  • Get in contact with some friends about meetings up that have been scheduled for months.
  • The sheets on the beds will get up and walk off on their own if I don’t change them soon.
  • I have a hankering to throw out at least 30% of our belongings.
  • Groceries need doing.
  • Finance-tracking needs updating – oops on this one. We’re really spending a bit hard at the moment after getting a lump sum of back-pay a couple of weeks ago. It’s been quite nice to spend a little time not keeping everything so locked down, but it can’t really continue what with tax returns and Christmas and baby all incoming in the short term.
  • I want to get the ingredients and start Christmas Cake and Pudding making.
  • Pumpkin Carving, and attendant pumpkin seed toasting and pumpkin soup making.
  • It’s a sunny (albeit cold) Autumn Sunday and the marina is pedestrianised for all Sundays in October, so bike riding and dog walking down by the marina should be a lovely way to spend some time.
  • General tidying, etc.
  • Moar obsessing?

So, too many things for one day probably. I have a general rule of thumb to have not much more than three things on a list for a day, and there’s well in excess of three things on that list, so priorities need to be set. I place outdoor fun high, because it’s good for all of our mental health to be outdoors and amongst trees and getting some exercise.

I dunno. After that, I reckon groceries are a bit of a must-do, and then I’ll just check the list and base it off of what feels most attractive. Anything undone today will have to be addressed in the future. And so the days slip away, eaten by tiny mundane things, until years have passed and the clutter remains and the bedsheets are still not pristine and the dogs are fat from lack of walks.

But it could be worse.