I wrote to you back in December, telling you that I knew you were coming, and that I would handle it as I always do. For my partner, for my Son, for my unborn baby. But you messed it up. I had a few bad days where things were harder, but once I got past Christmas I thought I was in the clear. I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd finally beat the worst of it. I didn't expect you to show up after Christmas. I was ready for you before, or even during Christmas, and instead you waited in the background.

The last week or two has been hell. I've had some days that have been easier, but mostly I've just not wanted to do anything. I still have, because I've had to. But I'm disconnected. I'm on autopilot. I'm messing simple things up, like dinner or bed time. I haven't been able to enjoy anything, and only smile to keep up appearances. I've lost count of how many times I've cried, or raised my voice at my 3 year old, or just gone to sleep (when I've had someone to watch my Son of course), all because of you.

Please leave me alone so I can get through the last few weeks of my pregnancy. It's been hard enough without having to fight you too.