I kid you not; here is a post I began last week:

I have to preface this post by saying I am taking a huge risk in publishing this. I am knocking on wood for all I’m worth now, and telling you not to be surprised if another post pops up tomorrow that more or less says OMG I didn’t mean anything I said in that last post. I am eating my words right now and don’t need to hear it from all the mothers saying, I told you so!

So…that being said…I just have to say I am absolutely (and most pleasantly) surprised at how easy this pregnancy has been so far. (AGAIN…knock on wood…) Morning sickness was very minimal. I had about three weeks of queasiness around Christmas, during which some saltines would normally do the trick. I was pretty exhausted around then, but I had a week off for the holidays, so I could really rest up. Once January hit, my energy was back. I’ve been able to keep up walking/jogging up until this point.  I’ve been mostly happy, only hitting emotional days when I’m super tired or feeling a little under the weather. And even then, they’re not so bad. I feel super peaceful and excited and ready for us to have a baby.

Now, fast-forward to today.

I never published this post, and DARN GOOD THING I DIDN’T. This past week has been really hard, and I am convinced it’s because baby has hit a growth spurt. It’s also a combination of not feeling well, not sleeping well, and being stressed about work. But my belly is significantly bigger today than it was last Friday. All of this combined has thrown my mind into a tizzy, thinking way too much about the way too many things I need to do before August. (When your body grows enough for you to notice in just a couple days, you start panicking…at least I did).

One reason I knew I was irrationally emotional this week was that a good friend of mine had her sweet baby boy Tuesday. He is SO perfect and precious. I am so happy for her, truly. But then my thoughts following this happiness indicated to me I was a little off my rocker because after about a day I began to wonder…what if my baby isn’t so perfect and precious? What if I have an ugly baby?! What if labor is really hard and doesn’t go the way I plan? What if we don’t have everything we need? What if I don’t have time to get the house in order before Peanut finally arrives? I don’t even feel like I KNOW Peanut; will it be weird when he/she is born?? What if they hate their name? What if they are like TEN POUNDS?! WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT IF. And on and on into several sleepless, tearful nights.

On top of this, I have also acquired nesting fever to the point where I HATE going to work because I would rather stay home and organize my recipes, pick out paint colors, put some of our furniture up on Craig’s List, replace with baby furniture, plant my spring flowers, organize the baby stuff we already have, switch out the pictures in the picture frames, scrub the floors, wash the windows, dust the fans, map out the deck we are supposed to be building this summer…

*blink*

Yes, that is my mind. And yes…I take back everything I said at the beginning of this post.