Icky talk ahead - read at your own risk!!!

Yesterday, as if I had not enjoyed enough bounty, my uterus decided to give me a present I'd not received for 3 years, 10 months and 1 day. I got my period. I'd kind of expected it, but when it happened I was a little...stunned. I can't help but be reminded of its (lack) of presence over the aforementioned time, and thus, in that time, I've obviously been in definite 'baby mode'. You see, I got pregnant with disgusting ease. It seemed all I needed to do was pass a frilly baby shop of goods and presto! fertilisation. So the last two eggs that could have passed out of me in fact turned into two children*. So it’s not without some reflection that I write this. What if this last egg had been fertilised? Let’s approach this hypothetically: 1) I’d be four-ish weeks pregnant. Pretty soon I’d be feeling like shit. 2) That would make me due – roughly – at the end of January next year. 3) I would have three kids under four years of age. 4) I would, right now, be officially freaking out 5) I would also, right now, be kind of…special feeling. Victorious. Elated. Scared-Happy. Happy-Scared. Now, I won’t be doing this every month from now on that I get a period. I promise! Please allow me this maudlin and possibly boring report. It’s just hit me that I’m shifting back into potential Mother Creator mode. Period-less, I was undeniably Mother Provider. Technically, I still am because I am still breastfeeding Riley, but my body has cranked that lever somewhere back to ‘GO’ and has decided – chemically, at least, that it’s ready to go again when I am. I must admit, that for the cons of breastfeeding (loss of libido) I enjoy the pros (non-menstruation and lack of psycho PMT hormones). This explains this week the rather irrational feelings I have had: on occasion, although the kids haven’t been altogether bad, I’ve felt like striding out of the house upon Adams return from work and being by myself for a few hours. I’d had it. Sick of domestic labour, the drudgery. I do not like being this girl. And I will have to be this girl for some time to come! I am also bracing myself for Keira barging into the bathroom, as she does, only to stare at me as I fiddle with all the cottony and plasticy and femininy effluvia that comes with mopping up the ‘red stuff’. And the “What’s That?” and “Why?” questions. It’s then I’ll be wishing for the menstrual desert again. Or not. Long ago, when I was in a menstrual desert (almost two years); where I was too skinny to even ovulate, and, then, I was terrified I wouldn’t get ‘it’ back again and was one of the major spurrers of my recovery. How the wheel turns… In summation: this month, period = weird and sad. Next month? Who knows? Or, I could be pregnant again. *Well, possibly three eggs. We’ll never know if Riley was one egg split in two, or one of his own. Being a twin and all. Have I mentioned that before? No? Another time, perhaps…