Spring is supposed to bring hope, joy, all of those good things associated with fresh starts and blooming flowers and baby animals. If it is supposed to be all flowers and sunshine, why have I been spending the past couple of days at the point of tears on a regular basis?

I really can't think of what is causing this, or at least pin down one specific trigger. Yes, work still sucks. There has been some movement at solidifying things at the top, but no one knows what that means for the rest of us. It's been a rough almost six months now, and it's only getting worse. I'm getting so tired of getting beat up for not getting things done, when even if I were three people, it still wouldn't get all done. My jokes about job security are beginning to ring hollow right now. I can't shake this feeling that my optimism about finally getting some sort of recognition for all that I have put in over the past several year was misplaced. That I'm going to end up in the same damn rut that I have been in for a while now. The work is still fun to some degree, but the sheer volume of it is beginning to tear me down. I have decided that I suck at being superwoman, and don't understand why I even tried.

Another thing that has really been bugging me is the fact that Husband has been pushing me to find a urologist to set up an appointment for the final snip. It makes me so sad to think that I'll never have another baby in this house, never get to feel those taps again. After all that we went through to get here, battling infertility and all of its associated demons, that we are just going to shut the door with such finality. There are all sorts of pragmatic, good reasons why we should stop here. There is the fact that I'm not getting any younger, and would be a lot closer to 40 than I am to 35 if we had another. My body didn't fare well last time either-my lower back is still giving me some trouble, almost eight months later. A third pregnancy with GD would make later onset an almost certainty. We cannot afford daycare for one more; with the housing market the way it is, while we could afford a larger home, the likelihood of selling ours for anything much more than what we owe on it is really a crapshoot. I know all of that.

I can't seem to articulate to Husband how or why this is bothering me so much. I know that all kids grow up, and that babies never stay that way. I know that. But, and I hesitate to write this, since I never thought that I would have the chance to, I like being a mom. I do. I really would like more. It was when Son was about the age that BabyA is now when I got the urge to have another. While the two of them are a handful, it just doesn't feel complete to me. I'm not stuck on necessarily having another biological child, although I have to admit that I really think that I blew it with both pregnancies by not stopping to just be in the moment, in the experience. However, that's probably a pretty crappy reason to have another child. Husband is dead set against any more, and since he has to be on board, I guess that I'm stuck.

Both situations have got me feeling rather powerless, like I'm being dragged along by the current, and I have no way to control where I end up. Like nothing that I do really makes a difference in the eventual outcome, because I've lost that control. Other people control things, and there is no way that I can wrest that from them. With work, all I can do is my job, and tell those above me what I want (a major victory in itself I suppose, since I've never advocated for myself before) and let that bitch called fate take its course. Husband is a force of nature, the tornado that you can't control, but that can rip you apart. I wish that I could make him see how hard this is for me. How big a role that infertility and our subsequent family has played with me, with how I see myself. Even though I use words as a weapon, and as a way to support my family, I always seem to fail so miserably when I try to get them out to him. I don't even need to sway him to my side, but it would be a relief of sorts for him to be able to honestly say that he can understand why I would feel that way. He has already said that he can't, and in his world, that's it. No attempt to empathize, or to try to see it through my eyes. Just slam the door and don't look back.

It probably doesn't help that I've been so tired that I could cry lately. I've been coming home, doing all of the fun stuff like dinner and baths, and then have been working for another couple of hours after everyone has gone to bed. I hate slinking into bed and having to cling to my edge. I miss just being able to sit and watch a movie, or one of our late-ish night favorites. But if I don't do it, the bottles will never get washed, the dishes won't find a home in the dishwasher, clothes won't get folded, and oh, that little thing called the job that pays the mortgage and everything else won't get attended to.

I've just been battling up this hill for so long without a break of any kind that I just have run out of reserves. I need a husband that gets me right now, someone who understands what I am trying to do, and why I feel compelled to do it, and can just support me. I need to get something, anything from him (that doesn't have sex as its ultimate end goal) that can help bring me back on keel. I just don't see it coming. He has to travel for work beginning on Saturday and won't be back for five days, so I don't see any downtime for me anytime soon.

I know that so many go through so much more than I do, have so many other hurts and haunting grief that they carry with them. There are times when I use that thought to try to put it all in perspective, and it just makes me feel worse for being so weak that I can't just handle all of this and get one with it already. If I didn't have Son and BabyA right now, I would be sunk. BabyA really has been my light as of late-she doesn't care what I do, just so long as I can hold her, and provide a binky. In return I get smiles and giggles and snuggles, with no demands. Son is very good at being almost three, but he also has those moments that cause me to wish that he would never grow up-just stay this sweet and beautiful boy. I know that can't happen. I also know that it's not fair to place the burden of providing emotional solace for their mother on them. But right now, there are times where they and the animals in the house are all that I have.

I just feel as though I am failing at every turn. I just want to crawl into a hole and only come out when things become manageable again. Somehow I don't think that is going to work.