People always say every day counts but for some reason I can only appreciate the weeks. I am obsessed with the weeks. My first goal is 24 weeks, then 25 weeks, then 28 weeks. Right now the thought of making it to 28 weeks is enough. I feel like if I make it there, it will give me so much relief. In reality I know that if or when I reach there, I will only be happy with another 4 weeks of cooking. Always another few weeks.
And to think that with a normal pregnancy, people just get so impatient at the end wishing baby would hurry and come. funny how I would just kill to be in that position of being able to wish baby would hurry to come, rather than fearing every moment that baby will come too soon.
Initially I think my partner didn't understand about the weeks. When I told him my first goal is just to get to 24-25 weeks, he responded that he wanted us to make it to at least 32. It's something that someone else could not understand without being in this body. No one else could know what it feels like to live this fear every moment, to have to be cognisant and cautious of every moment. The minutes can pass like hours and weeks now pass like years. I cannot wait another 10 weeks to feel relief. I need my small goals to keep me going.
Thank goodness my parents are back to visit from out if town. They will be helping out for a week or two. I thought my partner was going to go crazy and kill us all. I feel terrible about how much everyone has to do for me, especially my partner when my parents aren't around.
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