Okay, so today was my first period in my new house. I got miraculously pregnant with Abigail the very week we moved. So 9 months of pregnancy plus 11 months of nursing a little imp with chronic infant reflux equals me trying to find the tampons at my new neighborhood Target a full year and half after our move.
They put the tampons next to the pregnancy tests.
It was like a fist punch to the heart. You didn't get the answer you wanted to see two weeks ago, so now you are here--in the depressing feminine hygiene aisle. Next to all those people using Trojan condoms that are also stuck out at your eye level.
Oh, and Abigail has a cold and is teething and is not looking her best after getting up with me 5 times last night--and she's staring at me sort of greenish from my shopping cart and I think
"WAA WAA I will never be able to wake up multiple times with a baby ever again. She's my last one".
(Isn't that stupid? Like I'm so not enjoying waking up in the middle of the night with the toddler and the one year old that I have right now. But if I think about never getting a chance to suffer like this with a new baby, I could start to tear up.)
Yeah. Secondary infertility. It blows.
(clarification: I suffered from unexplained secondary infertility from 2007 to 2010. I'm not suggesting I qualify for secondary infertility in this moment, I'm only surprised that I'm so fearful of it coming back despite giving birth to two beautiful daughters within the past 2 1/2 years. That secondary infertility pain is deep. It still lingers. It still shows up at unexpected times)