I feel like a turd because I really want to post some pictures that would have thrown my infertile ass into a depression. Or a rage, depending on the day. Pictures of cute kids in costumes and carved pumpkins. My cute kids and the pumpkin that I carved of a Dis.ney Princess.
When I read posts like this one by Pamela Jeanne (and the 3 referenced therein), I am instantly transported back to that time. Back to those feelings of suffocation. Despair and jealously would overtake me and I'd be in a funk (a cute little word to describe my depression) for weeks after the pumpkin patch episode recounted by Luna here. I've had that experience, many years in a row.
But, as I said, apparently I'm a turd. Because I'm so enthralled by the pictures I've taken that I feel as though I'm forgetting my roots. Therefore, I'm going to post the pictures on my Face.book page. Many of you are already friends with me there, but if you aren't let me know so we can get connected.
In the meantime, I'll working on slaying the beast that has set this inner turmoil in motion -- the turmoil that is causing me to toss about in the sea of holiday-induced infertility depression residue mixed with I'm-crazy-about-my-kids-and-want-the-world-to-ooh-and-aah-over-them euphoria.
Wish me luck.