People keep asking how I'm doing.
I'm horrible honestly.
The deployment I could probably do, being sick I could do, losing another baby I might be able to do, but all three are just too much for me. Coupled with Lillian being absolutely horrible in every way.
I'm counting the days until he gets home, all the while trying desperately not to count. I'm trying to stay as busy as possible and not think about anything. I have a membership to the zoo and the botanical garden and am going to get one to Busch Gardens. But that's all just for Lil. She loves it and when she's loving something she's not generally as horrible acting and I have a prayer of her sleeping at night.
Having people here is wonderful. But then they always leave. So thankful for company, but it just makes me wish someone could move in and stay until he gets home. Everyone is commenting on how bad Lil has gotten- mom and dad, the nursery workers, my friends, her friends, the YMCA staff....So, obviously its not just me imagining things and its not just that she does this only for me. Not sure either of those are good things, but at least it doesn't make me crazy.
But we're not even at his halfway point yet and right now I have NOTHING planned for the month of July. Not a single thing. Three friends are moving at the end of June. I'm losing babysitters, friends for Lillian, activity partners, and people who understand what I'm going through. It leaves me with two more friends who are "possibly moving" within the next three months, a girl I'm not super fond of and Lindsey, who is pregnant, due the same day I was. Lindsey asked me the other day what I thought of the boy and girl names she was thinking of. ?!?!?! I don't care, and I certainly don't want to hear about it. AT ALL. And I certainly don't appreciate being asked about it. And believe me, there are pregnant people and new babies EVERYWHERE.
I'm looking for a new Sunday School class at church as ours has dissolved and so far, I have had no luck. Visiting Sunday School classes on your own is NO fun.
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