I’ve either just passed or am nearing the end of the first trimester, depending on how you break the weeks down—some count it to twelve weeks, some to fourteen—and, pretty much on cue, I’m feeling less fatigue and the morning sickness is ebbing away.<\/p>\n
Unfortunately, what’s ramping up instead is worse: the rollercoaster of emotional instability that I remember from my first pregnancy too. I call it The Crazy, as in, “Here comes The Crazy.” It’s awful because it’s so hard to recognize if you’re being crazy when you’re crazy<\/em>: in those moments, obviously, your judgment isn’t functioning at its best. It always seems like I ought to be able to compensate for fluctuating hormones with rational thought, and yet in practice that just never seems to work.<\/p>\n I think my first inkling of The Crazy came, not from last night’s screaming fight with Sam (can’t remember the last time that happened—and this time it was over a smear of chocolate on my needlework, for which I felt Sam was exhibiting a monstrously insufficient level of remorse and concern), but from finding myself sobbing helplessly in front of the computer monitor over a relatively innocuous story of the Depression<\/a>. It wasn’t even the deaths or the malnutrition or anything. It was the bungalows and the cannery that were torn down, the sense of change not necessarily for the better, the glimpse of a sweet way of life lost. The nostalgia just swamped me and I broke out crying. That seems pretty crazy.<\/p>\n And, oh yes, day before yesterday I was weeping openly on the street<\/em>, pushing Robin in his stroller, because Sam’s taken up smoking again and I’m worried about him dying of lung cancer.<\/p>\n I hope the waterworks don’t last for another six months. I don’t think they did last time; the second trimester was the worst in terms of emotional fragility, probably? I joked during my last pregnancy that Hallmark should make sympathy cards: “I’m sorry you’re crazy!” Because, really, it sucks. I’d rather have the morning sickness.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I’ve either just passed or am nearing the end of the first trimester, depending on how you break the weeks down—some count it to twelve weeks, some to fourteen—and, pretty much on cue, I’m feeling less fatigue and the morning sickness is ebbing away. Unfortunately, what’s ramping up instead is worse: the rollercoaster of emotional […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/680"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=680"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/680\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":683,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/680\/revisions\/683"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=680"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=680"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=680"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}