Basically that. My husband and I have a three year old and have been weathering the Covid storm in our small apartment in NYC both working from home with no childcare. He’s wanted a second for a while and I didn’t, but I let myself be convinced (by him, by my friends, and by myself) that it would be great for our son and that it wouldn’t be as hard the second time around.I had a miserable pregnancy with my first, topped off by a 50 hour labor and a terrible bout of postpartum depression that led me to think about jumping off our fifteen-story window more than once. I own my own business and was almost crushed under the weight of caring for a newborn and a company, not to mention I’m still 30 pounds heavier than I was before I got pregnant with my first.I’m terrified. I’m spiraling. I saw the two positive lines on my test this morning and felt my entire body just get drenched in fear and regret.My husband and I love each other. I love my son. I don’t have family nearby but I have great friends and a job I love and we’re financially stable. But I feel trapped and claustrophobic and like I may have made a terrible mistake.Has anyone else felt like this and it wound up being okay? I would love some reassurance. via /r/Parenting https://ift.tt/3oFlx05
No comments:
Post a Comment