Dear “Pregnant and Miserable,”

First off, let me just clear up one thing: If you have never visited my blog, you might assume that I’m serious when I call myself a “calm mama” — but frankly it’s a combination of irony and optimism. I would love to be calm. I strive for calm. I dream of calm. I Dream of Jeanie and sometimes she blinkles her eyes with a brisk head-nod and I feel better.

I’ve had good days and bad days. Certainly not the kind of get-up-and-go days in my (current) second trimester that all the books promised.

It’s been a long road to get to Week 22, full of panic over dubious test results, fear that I should never have gotten pregnant, fear that something I ate or breathed will harm the developing baby, worry that I’m too depressed to handle these hormonal mood swings, (ugh — the mood swings!) not to mention worry that I won’t be a good mother, won’t love my son.

I kind-of hate those people who say things like “You should have a JOYFUL pregnancy.” And seriously, mine’s not even that bad. So add to everything else, guilt that I should be more grateful.

Actually, I can’t speak to whatever is making you miserable, I don’t know your story.

I know that I do feel good sometimes, that, so far, I wouldn’t mind going through pregnancy again. When I blog, I often try to write more about the good than the bad, because that helps me to elongate the good moments.

I haven’t been that nauseous, I haven’t gained that much weight, I look kind of cute with a pregnant belly, my husband still thinks I’m sexy…

Yes, and the heartburn sucks, and my thighs and butt are bigger than ever in my life, and bloating is very uncomfortable, and I don’t feel terribly sexy at all, and every parent I know keeps leering at me and chortling about how in a few months I’ll never sleep or have free time again…

I don’t know. Sometimes when it’s bad, or just after it’s bad, I can still find something funny in it. That helps. Sometimes I just give in to it all. G-d and the universe must have me in hand. And you too.