Congradulations.

I want to be happy. I really want to be happy, but I am overwhelmed and I don't feel supported. I don't know why. I have plenty of friends and my family lets me live with them, so what's my deal?

I never thought I would be a baby momma.

This is a really hard thing approaching this road without help. The kind of help you get from a man that loves you and lays next to you at night and tells you that you are beautiful even though you feel like a Beluga whale. I keep getting bigger and bigger. The general consensus is that it gets worse. My sweet little soon-to-be-blessing sits on my bladder unforgivingly. I can't ever get comfortable. I am trapped in a fat suit. I can't wait to hold her and be done with the physical burden that no one can carry for me. I am embarrassed and I feel guilty when people notice I'm pregnant. I should be happy, but this is so not where I thought I would be.

Part of me thinks if he just showed some small portion of concern for the sweet new life, I would feel so much more relief. He talks a lot, but no action. He doesn't think she is his. He doesn't think I'm actually pregnant. There's only one explanation of that. He is in denial. It remarkably breaks my heart. I didn't think I would ever care about what he thought, wanted - any of it. I care. As soon as I knew his little baby was in me I started to care about him. I hate that I care. I want to write him off, because Chloe and I will be better off, but I want him around.

I want things for Chloe that she may never get that I can't give her. It literally breaks my heart. I can't say it any other way.