Update

Hi, everyone.

After my mini-meltdown (er, post) from a few days ago, I wanted to say thank you.  I felt really shitty blogging about that in the first place and I was scared that I would anger people.  I was genuinely touched by the outpouring of support and understanding that I received.

I talked to Mr SC.  He admitted he was an ass.

Baby A is doing better.  We saw her ped and we started her on reflux medicine.  We aren't sure if it was reflux or a growth spurt or the start of teething, but she's much, much better.

Finally, I felt a huge sense of relief getting all of that off my chest.  I'm not sure if I think I have PPD but I did start Lex.apro again.  Plus, my first postpartum AF arrived the next day, which I'm sure didn't help matters any.

Again, thank you all so much.

Something Just Isn't Right Here

Being a mom to a three month old baby has changed me, both physically and emotionally.

If I'm being honest though, dealing with IF/RPL has changed me more.   

That may seem strange to say but to me, it's perfectly logical.  I love my daughter.  It's tough, sure.  Mr SC and I can be a little more short with each other these days, true.  However, it's all so natural.   There are tough moments and days (see my pp) but you get through it and learn that tomorrow is another day.  There may be crying, and vomit and shitty diapers, but there are also smiles and giggles and cuddles.

IF/RPL is like being stuck in hell.   Or being falsely imprisoned.  You're there through no fault of your own and your sentence is completely unfair and downright cruel.  You protest.  You fight.  You kick and scream.  All to no avail.

Even though I'm a mom now, I still think of each of you and IF every day.  I'm still pissed off.  Last night, I found out that my drug addict cousin, who just is fresh out of rehab (and using again), got his current girlfriend pregnant.  That's oops baby number three.  Today, at the pediatrician, there was a mom with a newborn in her stroller.  As everyone else was ooohing and ahhing over the baby, I zeroed in on something else.

She had a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in the cupholder of the stroller.  And yes, she was alone.  They belonged to her.

I wanted to scream at that the woman.  I thought about "The Truth About Trying".  I thought about what so many of you are still going through.  I thought about what I went through the last three years.  I wanted her to get it.  To understand.  To realize how dumb she was.

Isn't it disgusting how people take the most precious things in life for granted?

The Post I'm Afraid to Write

"I Can't Handle It"

In our four and a half years together, I've never heard anything close to that come out of my husband's mouth.   We've been through flooding in our house, flooding in our garage, a fire, eight surgeries between the two of us and four miscarriages.  Today is the day I heard those words.

I didn't complain once when I was pregnant.  Not from the shots.  Or the insomnia that lasted throughout the entire pregnancy.  Or the intense back pain.  Or the gestational diabetes.

I gotta say though...I hate myself right now.

I feel like a failure.  As a wife.  As a mother.  As a person.  Pretty much in every aspect of my life.

Tensions are high in the house right now.  It's pretty much par for the course with an infant.  I get that.  What makes me a horrible mother though?   Other than the fact that I can't bfeed anymore (which I'm having a hard time with),  I can't take it when Baby A cries.

I know, I know...you're probably all rolling your eyes right now.

I'm her mother.  I should be able to soothe her.  Sometimes, lately, I can try all of the 75 different things that are in my bag of tricks and none of them work.  It's to the point over the last couple of weeks that I'm afraid to leave the house.  She's not a car baby and ends up screaming herself to sleep.  It's just awful.  So, why leave the house?  I can take her for walks in the neighborhood and that's pretty much all I've been doing.  I have plans this weekend with a friend and it's a 45 minute drive.  I am terrified that all she'll do is cry in the car and there's nothing I'll be able to do to help her.

Today we ventured to the nearest city (30 minutes and pretty much our only option) to go shopping for a few things.  She just kept crying and crying and crying.  I ended up in the back seat with her, trying to calm her.  Nothing was working.   Feeling so overwhelmed, I started sobbing myself.  That's when my husband said it.  When I asked him for clarification, he said that her crying and me crying just drives him over the edge and he can't handle it.  Insert reason #57 why I suck as a wife.

I feel like a shitty ass person even posting this here, but I'm not sure where else to turn.  Baby A is what we wanted for so long.  So incredibly long.  I feel so disgusted with myself that I get so upset about things but I do and I'm not sure what to do about it.