Well, damn

Max rewarded my optimism with being completely fussy, clingy, whiny and bratty today, right around the time I finished posting the last entry. Bleah.

I also feel under the weather (stomach issues) so maybe he's feeling a bit punk too.

Anyway, though -- with regards to winter, I submit the following by Winston Churchill: "It is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

So, we'll see.

I have the Essure procedure scheduled for mid-May, and 3 months after that I should be completely done with ever worrying about getting pregnant. I'm still kicking myself for not just getting a tubal as long as they were in there getting Max out, but I read one or two accounts of bad-ish side effects from tubals (heavier periods, etc.) and for some reason I panicked.

In hindsight, I suspect I also wasn't ready to take a permanent step until I knew everything would be fine with Max -- at the time I didn't think of that consciously, but I remember after Hannah died and feeling so stymied and frustrated by the fact that we had already been DONE with kids and Jon had finally gotten the snip, and then there we were facing all those decisions again.

Oh, well.

Even if, God/Allah/whoever forbid, something happens to one of the children, there is just no way in hell I can ever, ever be pregnant or have a baby again. I am just too damn old, my health is already compromised enough, and I'm just OVER the baby thing, completely. I love Max and he is cute and I will sort of miss his babyhood once it's really gone, but I sure won't wish it back. I am ready to move on. I feel like we have been running in place for a decade; like we've flunked kindergarten a few times... for 10 years we have had only children age 5 and under.

Well, enough blathering.