The Other Side...

Well, in the wee hours of this morning, I made it to the other side. The side where Eli has now been gone longer than he was with us. I was hoping that it would feel like a release. That would feel like some closure had been obtained from reaching this mark in time. That hasn't happened. I could wake up tomorrow and feel totally different but for today, I don't.

I have been in a foul mood for the last couple of days. Much of it, I'm sure, has to do with the messed up hormones in my system... not enough to do what they needed to but just enough to make me a nut case when normally, I'm actually quite stable. That's fun. I'm sure a lot of that has to do with what a "big" week this was, emotionally.
Sunday, with the blood draw and sky high hopes for anything and everything, sunny weather, a family day.
Monday with high hopes but no answer from the Dr's office yet.
Tuesday with the news that not only am I emotionally broken, I'm physically broken too.
Wednesday with disappointment of being broken on my birthday which I really didn't even want to celebrate this year. Having to listen to three "women" drink wine at the table next to us and rather loudly discuss when they were going to start having babies and how after "like the first 8 weeks, you're golden". It took every ounce of self restraint not to snap back with a "Get REAL! Are you totally clueless?" Oh and checking the mail and having to open an invitation to a baby shower, that I probably will go to but ouch. And then, feeling guilty about not being happy about receiving the invitation... come on!
Thursday, the sun came out again but I still wasn't able to kick the crummy mood that I've been in.
Friday was totally overwhelming as the house was messy, nap time lasted all of an hour and a half which is half our normal amount. R has been a potty training rock star and still is but just after he went potty in the late afternoon hours *grossness warning* ended up with a case of diarrhea on the white sofa, down his legs all the while he's saying "sowwy mommy, sowwy mommy..." I wasn't mad, kept my cool, told him that it wasn't his fault, it was just an accident, he probably just thought he was tooting and put him on the toilet so he could finish up, which he did, pulled the cushion covers off, tossed them in the wash, tossed him in the tub, cleaned up the carpet between the sofa and the bathroom... we were all good. Got him out of tub and dried off, pull-ups on just in case (he's been fine since - even woke up dry this morning!), he ran off to the playroom to play. While I was still cleaning up the bathroom he came back in with "beautiful marker artwork" all over his body. I had a firm talk about how markers stay on paper, etc. etc. etc. wiped him off and he ran off to play. I was still cleaning the bathroom and two minutes later, he was back... all marked up again! That time he was punished. It was a total comedy - for someone on the outside - of errors. Anyway, that was enough to make me pretty much feel like a parenting failure and of course my head started going to that place that says, "No wonder you're not going to get pregnant. You can't even remotely handle the two that you have - and they're EASY kids!" But whatever. I know that's just self doubt creeping in but come on!
Saturday, the day that Eli has been gone for longer than my body held him. Kind of bites that I can't get myself to a good place about this.

Man, it's a good thing I gave a warning earlier in the month that I would probably unload with a few vents thanks to the hormones. I guess that was an understatement. I'm hoping and praying that tomorrow brings me a little more peace but I'm guessing, with it being Father's Day, it won't. Maybe Monday...