My body has a cruel sense of irony. The day after one of the biggest day of love, flirtation, sexy lingerie, and a day where everyone that could made love with someone special (if not special than at least someone available) did so is the day, where I laid in bed, alone. At 2:30am Zac woke up, took a full bottle and my cat jumped up on my bed. Honey has a love of a particular blanket that sits on the end of my bed. He loves it so much that he starts humping it (I might add that he was neutered almost eighteen months ago and now, instead of humping items all the time, he only humps in front of me - at least, I think so - I mean, I really, really hope so). I was laying there between my raspy son, praying that he wouldn't wake up and vomit on me, and my cat that was getting off on a blanket and just thought, "Happy Valentines Day to me".
That is the day that my body decided to signal that it was ready to have children. It's actually sobering to think that I'm fertile and my uterus could produce another child if I ever got within ten feet of a million or so sperm.
I haven't had my period since early October 2004, right after M's wedding. If emotional baggage could be stored in uterine lining, I would have quite a bit. At least it's finally coming out and I have a prayer that the cramps that have been plaguing me for the last month will finally end.
This might explain two things: 1)my extreme cravings for chocolate and sex and 2) the depressing blog entries lately.