IT'S A BLUE

COoooooooooooooooool.

Today is teh excitement

Ultrasound today! We get to see our cute little baby, and hopefully find out if we are having a blue or a pink.

YAY for ultrasounds.

I love this kid a ton.

Me = Blahs.

I've been really struggling with my self image lately. As someone who was quite heavy and after years of trying, lost a lot of weight, post quitting smoking has been some rough times for me.

I had finally reset my self image as a NOT fat girl. And then I quit smoking and gained back ALL of what I lost. Then I lost 30 lbs again.

Now I am pregnant. And gaining rapidly. And I don't look pregnant. I look fat. I'm terribly depressed about my appearance. I feel terrible about myself. I suck at life.

Last night, my coworker got married. We got all gussied up and went to his reception. For the first time since probably July, I felt cute. Not fat looking, pregnant looking. My hair was good.

Man, I needed that.

The kind of parent I don't want to be.

I had young parents. I don't think they were necessarily equipped to handle the strains and struggles of having children. Especially my mom.

Now, don't get me wrong, my mom loves us a bunch, probably more than anything, but she was a tough mom to have. Her mom was tougher than that, and apparently my great grandmother was a very tough mom to have. I'm sure it goes without saying that my great grandmother's mom was a challenge.

I want to break that cycle. I don't want to raise another generation of dysfunctional women. That being said, I really hope it is a girl. I really want to raise a healthy, confident, happy, well adjusted girl. I just hope I am the mom to do it.

Growing up in my family has left me with low self esteem, food issues, trust issues, more emotional scars than I care to admit. My mom was alternately smothering and completely neglectful.

All summer long, we would have to go outside and play. We weren't allowed in the house to go to the bathroom. We weren't allowed to do much. Once, I accidentally disrupted a bees nest, and got stung by 4 or 5 bees. My cousin (my watched my uncle's 2 boys during the summer, too) tearfully went to the house to tell my mom that I got stung. She told him "that's what she gets for messing with the bees." and slammed the door in his face.

I know my mom did her best by us, but I do think she was just too young. She's a fantastic grandmother.

I hope that by sheer will of not wanting to perpetuate it, I can break the cycle.