This last 24 hours has been so difficult. It seems like my world is falling in on itself, and I'm just praying to be buried underneath it.
For those who aren't familiar with my background, here's a refresher. Getting pregnant with Andrew? No problem. We weren't even trying. After Andrew was born, we waited about 18 months to start working on giving him a sibling - never suspecting that we'd deal with infertility. After a confirmed and a suspected miscarriage, and almost two years of fertility treatments and disappointments, we threw up our hands and considered ourselves a one-child household. My final act was to sell/give away all my baby stuff. A few months after that, we turn up pregnant. A few months after that, we become grieving parents of a glory baby.
Since the postpartum bleeding stopped, we'd been back at it. Mostly having fun, "not trying but not not trying." But, for me, one of the worst parts of losing Leila was trying to convince myself that we could go back to being a one-child household. Now that I've seriously considered, even almost had it in my hands, being a larger family. And the word around the campfire is that a woman is more fertile after delivery. So we've been trying to capitalize on these hormone surges.
Combine those hormone surges with my getting off the antidepressants, and the stage was set for a whopper of a fight between Yasar and I. Without going into detail, it was very, very ugly. Nothing physical, but words still hurt. I ended up leaving the house last night, bent on sleeping in my car rather than be in the same square mile as him.
(I ended up coming home around midnight, when the heat and screaming kids got the best of me)
And this morning? My horrible Aunt Flo showed up. Unannounced, unexpected, and completely unwanted. The arsenic icing on my putrid cake.
I haven't cried that hard since the days after losing Leila. Why would something as natural as my period rip the scabs right off everything? I was opening the store this morning, sobbing all over the place. The pain is so intense. I want to throw up, curl into a ball, die.
Can I look forward to this every month?
Lord, just bring me home! Please!