Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. We all do. I especially feel sorry for myself when I see other people doing frivolous things whereas Aaron and I struggle financially. We have a long list of to-dos that involve money that we don't have. I feel sorry for myself when I visit others homes that are spacious and contain play rooms for their children and room to roam, whereas my baby will have little space. I feel sorry for myself when I see skinny moms with perfect bellies, and I'm large and doughy. I'm trying to be honest - I feel sorry for myself.
And then something happens a lot of the time. I hit a wall. I wake up. I realize what I have and how what I have is something that I love. I love my husband. I love my future child. I love laying on my very comfortable couch in front of the fireplace watching a movie with my favorite person by my side. I love baking delicious desserts in the kitchen that we built with our own blood, sweat, and tears (literally) and with the help of our dads and my uncle. I love waking up in a warm bed with my perfect little cat at my feet who never wakes up before me, almost like he is protecting me. He won't go downstairs with Aaron... he waits for me, and then when I'm ready, he bounds down a few steps, turns around to make sure I'm following, and then continues on to the main level. I love that Aaron kisses my belly and tells the baby he loves him/her. How can anyone complain when they have what I have?
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