Fat and Happy

Today is a new day and I have a better grasp on my guilt. I think it had something to do with Mom spending three hours straight intentionally trying to upset me about this move. It's clear to me that she has created a reality wherein I'm the bad guy and no matter how the request for her to find a new place to live (eventually, mind you) went down, she' s telling everyone that will listen that I “kicked her out without any notice” and that I “left her without options.” It was a matter of getting tough, or letting her win.

I got tough. Sure, it took most of the night and Adam having to remind me a dozen times that I can't control the way she reacts or what she tells people. He truly feels that even if she paints me as the villain in the melodrama she's made of her life it will be worth it in the long run. I choose to believe him.

My baby shower is on Saturday and I'm getting ready to celebrate this baby. She's been on the back burner while I got everything else sorted out and it's going to be good to put her front and center. I'm thrilled to be fat with this child and I'm ready to bring the joy.

I'm so ready to stop letting shadows and drama block me from enjoying what's left of my pregnancy. There are only (about) ten more weeks left to make this baby fat and healthy. There's a good chance I'll not get another chance to be pregnant. I should put as much time as I can in relishing the crappy bits. I'll miss them when they're gone.