Just stop. Stop being tired. Stop being lazy. You’re pregnant. You’re not helpless. It doesn’t matter about the hospital. They said no restrictions. Get up. Get the house cleaned. Get the laundry done.

He just kicked. He’s okay.

It’s Wednesday. It’s your long day. But it’s 8:20. You don’t have time to sit her and cry for nothing.

There are dishes and laundry and toys and clothes that need to be dealt with. The bathrooms are gross. The beds need new sheets. The kids rooms are a wreck.

Get up and get dressed and get going. What is wrong with you?

You used to keep a tidy little house. Cleaned every single day. Cooked meals. Folded clothes. Worked through the littles nap. Now you’re what? Sitting here crying because your anxiety is up? Because you’re tired? Because your fat? Because you’re always trying to count kicks since the hospital stent Tuesday.

You’ve got other kids. A husband. And a schedule that needs you to pull it together.

You still Have weeks until you give birth. Like it’s only gonna get worse when this child is on the outside. Need to nest and prep now and not hope it magically gets done.

Women give birth in all kinds of circumstances. And they keep trucking. Why can’t you?