And so it continues.

In happy news...only one heartbeat.  I feel the baby move often.  I don't get sick when I don't eat...I just feel faint.  My 'high school' acne skin is clearing up.  My hair and nails are growing well.  I'm definitely, and embarrassingly, 'showing' (cause I eat too much so mostly I'm fat...seriously, the uterus part is very small still).  I go back and forth about it being a boy or girl...but the Chinese Fertility Calendar says boy.  Fine with me.

Now this is how I really feel:

If there was ever a time when 'rock bottom' felt like it was a few feet above me, now is it.
I realize the horrible irony that all I can do is complain while I'm pregnant when other women weep because they are not.

I have never wanted to miscarry so much in my life.

My hormones are a mess, and therefore I am.  I don't want to kill myself, but I don't want to be alive.  I can't bare taking care of my four other children most days.  I do, kinda, but I don't enjoy it. They have seen A LOT more movies lately than they every have.

I live life on a rollercoaster of hell.  On good days, it's like the clouds are still all around, but I can see through them to do the 'needs' of life and to even complete things.  The house stays livable. We have a home-cooked dinner, usually. Diapers are changed. Clothing is washed.
 
On bad days, I can't stand being alone with my thoughts, with other people with my thoughts, or anywhere with my thoughts. It's nearly impossible to survive when you don't want to be alone or with anyone.  It's beyond misery, really.

Josh gave Spencer a haircut yesterday. Spencer was screaming.  I said, "just shave it off, then he won't need another one." Yeah, that was sarcasm.  I LOVE Spencer's hair. 
Josh shaved it off.
I cried when I saw him and haven't really looked at him since. I want someone to take him away until he's 'him' again.

I HATE that it's always ME that ruins everything.  That's one small example.

The other horrible irony is that I think I have some 'tools' or ideas that would help me be better, or actually enjoy something again...but I'm so apathetic that I don't try anything.  And right now I hate the thought of working.  I want SO MUCH for someone to take care of ME for a change.  I'm paralyzed by the idea of it, really.

Can't someone else decide what I should dress my now fat, huge, ugly body with?
Can someone make me a breakfast that this parasite in me needs?  Along with snacks, lunch and dinner?  I'm failing miserably...even now I have a whole carton of ice cream in front of me, and no care in the world if I stop before it's all gone.
Can someone else love and be tender to my sweet boys, who need it so much? I can't seem to do that anymore.  I can be nice...but I can't do more.

Can someone sit down with Josh and me and hear us out and then tell us how to manage our marriage, children, house, yard, cars, insurance, money, and lives...so that we don't just have to survive this, but enjoy it?

And mostly, can someone tell me how to deal with every emotion I have that so quickly get blown out of proportion to where I am incapable of living?

Please? Someone.