On some level, he knew he was being irrational but he couldn't help it. He hated being reliant on others for anything but most especially for potions. The fact he was feeling well only made the restrictions on his life and his brewing worse. He could brew some "safe’ potions like dreamless sleep and pepper up but nothing challenging. Nothing he could lose himself in for a while and that included his own newest potion, the lacewing flies combined with the wormwood infusion gave off a gas which was considered a risk until the colour change was effected. It seemed that everything he might have enjoyed was a risk to the baby; he couldn’t even have a drink or a smoke his entire life had been hijacked by a bundle of cells in his womb.