mish mosh

Belle had her 18 month well visit yesterday and did... um, was Belle. She did not want anyone looking at her/touching her/telling her what to do so she screamed. The monster baby weighed in at 30 pounds even and 33 inches tall.

I'm having a really hard time with the level 2 u/s and fetal echo coming up. I was being positive. Ok, I was trying to be positive. I bought Norah & Belle matching hats and have been thinking about nursery decor.
Then the shit hits the fan and I'm back to nothing but dark thoughts about baby funerals and how I'll keep Norah alive in our hearts when she's not alive in this world.
Her crib was recalled. Before I bought it. I can't get the repair kit without looking at the crib itself. I can't do that. It's still in the box and I can't open it. I just can't bring myself to. That box holds those euphoric feelings of being first pregnant when you think nothing could/would go wrong. I hate this. I hate that something as simple as opening a box is sending me into a tailspin.

This sucks. I feel like I've been robbed of the ability to be happy about my pregnancy. I'm happy she's in there, growing and kicking, but I just want to know what's going to happen. I want to know the final outcome, but want to be able to enjoy her while I can, just in case.

this.sucks.