Hormones or Me

I really hate the way it feels when I want to run someone off the road, drag them out of the car they are in and pummel them. Its not a warm fuzzy feeling, its infuriating. Now question is, am I experiencing this because of hormones putting me into protection mode or is it because I have a natural violent streak. Which is it?

This young blonde.... oh keeping the rest of that comment to myself and going on... was on the phone in her BMW SUV and cut us off twice. The woman, if she can even privileged to be referred to as one, was so close to shoving us off the roadway that I clenched my entire body. Lets just say that isn't a good feeling when your trying to stay calm, unstressed both physically and emotionally for baby's sake. The first time scared me and I honked the horn while Stas navigated us to safety, the second time caused me to want to spit fire. If it was possible you would have seen it spewing fifty feet from my open mouth charring her car. I LAID on the horn and started to screen obscenities. She scared me so bad that I felt like MOWING her down. Thank the lord and for the sake of everyone else I wasn't driving.

Now I have always had a hint of ROAD RAGE but the feeling I was experiencing was complete total NEED for annihilation. I wanted to not only run her off the road but make sure she felt it.

That frightens me. I know I have a part of me that can be less then pleasant but I didn't think it was that easily provoked. What gives?

May...

We moved to Visalia into my mothers house. Two weeks prior I felt a twinge of something odd. I thought I was pregnant but figure it couldn't be because I had been sick for so long that sex wasn't exactly on the top of the list.

The move was stressful, with me being sick and losing weight so fast that I began to look a little malnourished and again of course Stas' family. I couldn't wait to get away.

I try to be understanding about the cultural differences and the fact that Stas is the only boy and the youngest but in the end I just can't. I don't and will never understand how it makes logical sense to treat a grown man of his age as a child.

Low and behold we are PREGNANT again!

Final Arangements, Lactation, Sickness, Moving

As mentioned in the prior post we had her cremated. I had to push Stas to call his parents and sister to tell them what had happened. It didn't feel like they gave much care that we were having a baby in the first place and they weren't very emotional to our loss. Stas took it very hard but they would never know because they didn't seem to think it was a big deal. We were both hurting horribly. Trying to work through our loss, the death of our daughter.

I lactated as expected, which was horribly painful but it also gave me something to make many jokes about. It broke up the hours of tears. Thankfully Stas is wonderful and supportive. We communicated constantly about how we were feeling and what we were experiencing. Both of us expressed how we missed her and how unfair this all was.

After I dried up, which took a while, I began to become ill. My stomach would hurt badly with eating. I began to throw up often and my bowels were crazy weird. Didn't think too much of it at first thinking it was just stress and sadness.

Then in November I went to the emergency room because the stomach pain was so bad that I was screaming.

1. November Hospitalization - Didn't know what was wrong with me. Noticed I was a bit anemic but chalked it all up to physical manifestations of emotional trauma although the counselor gave me the clear regarding how my emotional state was.
2. December Hospitalization - Again anemic but this time so much so that I developed a heart murmur. Still unknown issues, now saying IBS and still physical manifestations of emotional trauma.
3. March Hospitalization - Now I am being labeled as a drug seeker.
   

By May we moved out of San Francisco and to Visalia. His parents had a fit as expected, his sister isn't speaking to us and her boyfriend is sending inappropriate texts calling me obscene names. This is with her permission.