The milk in my breasts is gone. My stomach is still unfamiliar to me, my body strangely soft and muted, like soil ready for planting. A kitten claws my toes. I cannot take a bath and I want to very much. I cannot have sex with Mr. Curry and I want to so very very much. He took me downtown to the Gaslamp District today for a food tasting tour. We went quietly from place to place, his arm around my waist, my hand on his broad thick back. I had a dollar margarita, then another, and then we were giggling and for the rest of the tour we flirted and kissed and bemoaned that we could not go home and tear our clothes off. I have to have my doctor appointment and be told when my body is ready for my husband. I don't know about my body right now. It is a stranger to me. I am exhausted. I am puffy faced. My health problems attached to Endometriosis have swung back into gear after being let loose at the gates with the miscarriage and surgery and blood transfusion and days of pain killers and little or no food. My stomach is swollen out in Irritability and I pop probiotics dutifully, take my Vitex to balance the hormones, the Fish Oil for it's magic powers, drink water, sleep. My face and gums hurt. I get migranes. My body is leaking strange sap and I am creaking along trying to nurture myself back to health. I want a baby so badly my uterus flutters and it feels as though our baby is still in there. I had a moment where I thought Maybe...Maybe there was twins? And they missed one? Mr. Curry's sympathetic look when I mentioned this was all I needed. I knew it was crazy. My mind is swampy. I am afraid when Mr. Curry goes to work he will die in a car accident. I keep this to myself. I am afraid I will not get pregnant again. Mr. Curry won't hear of it. We will, he insists, we will, and don't let yourself believe anything else.
We sent the kids to my mom's on Saturday. I was a mess. I could not think, the buzzing in my head so loud, a migrane, and exhaustion- my thyroid is surely all out of whack again, and I need an adjustment. Mr. Curry worked for extra cash and the boys were mercilessly teasing Lola, so I finally snapped and yelled at them how selfish and mean they were being, because they could see that she had no one, and Daddy was sleeping and I was hurting and they had each other and their sister needed their protection and ...and... Mr. Curry woke up, accessed the situation and got us all out of the house. We dropped Ian off at his mom's and L and D off at my mom's and went home and cuddled and kissed and I gave Mr. Curry a very good time for a wreck of a wife. We watched a forgettable movie and I mused on the guilt bothering my stomach. My kids, my kids, my kids...I called, and they were fine, fine. Playing with Grandma. Ready for bed. I'm sorry, I told them, I know I yelled, and I'm sorry. When they came home today, we all behaved beautifully all day. Dakota and I spent two hours bathing the dogs in the bathtub, ridding them of fleas. My back hurts.
I am home and I would not want to be anywhere else.
