I almost made it through the bridal shower today.
I almost made it through and almost got to my car before bursting into tears.
I still can't handle a few things.
I can't handle gatherings of people.
I can't handle being around babies.
I can't handle Sundays.
All three were incorporated in this bridal shower.
Laughing happy people.
A one year old.
And it was Sunday.... I hate Sundays.
It didn't help that they spent a good 15 minutes trying to coax the baby to walk... right in front of me, all these happy people engrossed in this child. I was the only one not happy, not smiling, not excited about him walking. I was fighting back tears. I was fighting back anger, I should be 12 weeks today. I should be happy. I should be excited. Instead I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm a mess.
AF has sort of started today finally. This means that I start the Clomid on Tuesday. I'm scared, nervous, anxious... terrified. This probably hasn't helped.
And MIL kept wanting to ask about the treatments, talk for a minute, then talk to another family member about the one year old, then try to start the conversation back up.
So I left, with little good bye, I tried to slip out but everyone tried to yell bye to me... I mumbled bye, waved my hand, all this without turning back, kept walking. I don't care what they think about me, I really don't... part of me used to, but it died with my baby. I don't care anymore. What's the point?
So... Another shitty Sunday. I wonder how long Sundays are going to hit me this hard... I mean, everyday is hard... but Sundays? I hate Sundays.