Pregnancy and a fear of commitment

In my social life in general, I haven’t been afraid of commitment. I’ll make plans to see people days or weeks in advance without any anxiety. However, recently I find myself more wary of making plans, and it’s not because of my friends. It’s all my own fault, sorta.

You see, earlier on in my pregnancy, I could just tell people that I may or may not be up to eating, but getting together and hanging out wouldn’t be an issue. I was happy to chat, make jokes and be merry. In fact, at a few recent events, Dean and I were out way later than usual, enjoying the party until late into the night or early morning. But as the weeks have gone on, my energy levels have started to dip, my ankles have started to swell and I’m just less certain about making plans.

I feel awful about it, too. I really hate to be “one of those” pregnant ladies who loses all semblance of social life and disappears into some strange anti-social abyss. You know, that one that some women only emerge from when the kid is about six or so. And yet, I also don’t want to be one of those people who goes to a party only to be miserable the whole time. So, in some instances, it seems better to just not go than to go and be uncomfortable and unhappy.

Unfortunately, I never know how I will feel until the day arrives, or sometimes even the hour. I will wake up absolutely shattered some mornings, unsure how I will get through the day with work or whatever else needs to be done. Or some days I will wake up vibrant and full of energy, only to feel like a deflated balloon by the time 4pm rolls around. It’s weird to be so unsure of how I’ll feel, to be totally unable to make plans more than a couple hours in advance.

I’m hoping that this becomes more predictable in time. Perhaps this is just a transitional period, one that will pass once I’m more established in my third trimester and I know how much energy I will have and when. I don’t mind taking naps, or working around how I feel if the feelings could just be predictable. At this point, though, I feel bad RSVPing for just about anything, as I might be unable to attend any event that doesn’t include my sitting somewhere with my feet up, rubbing ice cubes on the back of my neck. Maybe that’s how I should RSVP to all events from now on! “I’ll be there, but instead of dietary requirements, please ensure that your event meets my weird recliner and ice requirements”.

It’s not that I’m expecting to feel better, I’d just like some element of predictability. But, I guess this is good preparation for the chaos of having a brand new human when she arrives. Bring on the unpredictability!


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