Time is flying.

I am officaly 30 weeks incubated, baby arriving in t-minus 68 days and offically on the home streach of this pregnancy thing, now being in the third trimster.

Punk boy and I set up the crib this past week. The goddamn thing is so huge that I think my plan of placing in the close isn't going to work. We've made room for it on my side of the bed but it has become pretty apparent to me that we will need to find a new, bigger place in the next year or two.

Putting the crib together and getting the mattress was another slap in the face for me this week. When I found out I was pregnant, it wasn't the joyous occasion that most people rave about. There was no 'cute' way that I told punk boy, I wasn't walking on cloud nice, clutching my belly and smiling like a mad women, itching to tell everyone about our bundle of joy. There was none of that for me. There was tears, anger, fear, frustration and a depression so deep I just didn't know what to do with myself. Later on, when my support system finally got me back on my feet, I started to become amazed with everything and the depression about my pregnancy slowly disapeared.

Now, things are a little bit backwards. With the crib, the baby matress, the first box of diapers.. well, I find myself backing slowly into some sort slump. I'm not completely depressed. I'm not completely happy about it either. This whole situation is confusing for me. No matter how many books I read, how many podcasts I listen to, or how many people I talk to - no one can relate to my experience. I got pregnant without wanting to.

Everyone had a plan, or as it seemed, wanted children so preparded themselves to eventually have children. I don't regret my decision to keep this child and I find it hard to talk about this with people in case they get the wrong idea about how I am feeling or about my situation. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't continue on with this. How fucking selfish would I have been? I just wish there was someone I could compare these crazy feelings with...

Last night I was crying while in bed with Punk Boy and he told me he was sorry he runined my life, in reference to the baby. That scorned me even more. He never ruined my life and I couldn't imagine having this baby with anyone but him. I hate myself for making him feel that I am so upset about this baby when I'm really not. I'm scared shitless and a bit confused and feel things are moving so fast, but never, ever did I feel he ruined my life.

If anything, he has inhanced it beyond belief.