Somehow, parenting with Sweetpea around - now that I can sleep some of the time, and have recovered most of my physical health - feels a little like redemption. I don't remember actually enjoying this stage with either of the other children, but she's just darling. It's probably all the things: a much better support network, the knowledge that a little unhappiness won't kill any of my children, and the fact that the oldest child is gone seven hours a day in kindergarten. It feels more graceful. It feels easier.
However, I got a blocked duct this week. Actually, I've had a somewhat-blocked duct for weeks, and it finally went into full-on OH FUCK. Not only does it hurt like the dickens, it's a herald of possible mastitis.... which, in turn, sent me into a full-on weeping breakdown. I kept saying that if I got mastitis, I'd wean the baby, but it turns out I'm bargaining with myself in my head. (Because that turned out SO well last time.) And... the doctor I see here, I don't actually trust to deal with this. Actually, on reflection, I don't really trust anyone to make it better, on the grounds that even an expert failed rather. So, fuck.