I cry a lot. Like ALOT. When motherhood gets tough, I know my husband can take off some load from me and give me a break so I can breathe. He’s really good with Livia since birth, so he has no problem taking her completely off my hands so I can get some time to myself. But with the pregnancy, he can’t. The entire burden of carrying and delivering the babies falls on me. And I feel the only way to vent is to burst into tears and tell him, “I’m in pain.” It doesn’t take away the pain but he will try to massage me or comfort me while I get over myself. Its been happening rather frequently these days as the weight starts taking its toll on my body. I usually feel better after an outburst, and I am glad he doesn’t take me any less seriously despite the frequency of outbursts. Sometimes it happens when he’s not at home and so I can’t vent to him. What I do is I go to the living room, where I sit on my armchair and just stare blankly at the window and the moment passes eventually. It might take half an hour, an hour or two, but it passes. Sometimes I cry to Livia and she obviously doesn’t know why, but she senses something is wrong. She will stroke my hands or legs or just get close to me and stare at me until the moment passes. The thing is the bad moment always passes, so you just have to get through it. I am brave on some days, I persevere on others, but there are just as many days where I just crumble and that’s okay.