well crap.

My heart is breaking.

My MS flared out of nowhere, I don't know what triggered it but it seems to be firing on all cylinders. I submitted to my doctor and had new MRI's run. They came back 'active'. Dangerous.

Tomorrow will be day 4 of The Juice. It could stretch to day 5. I'm a pin cushion. Today was my 8th stick with a needle/IV. If it weren't for the bruises I would have lost count.

I have to go back on my regular medication. Rebif. An injectable drug I can not breastfeed while taking.

I have to stop breastfeeding the baby. For good. Now.

And for that, not my illness, or the sticks, or the hours in an infusion room away from my family; my heart is breaking.

I have to stop. For real this time.

I have to keep saying it because I can not even begin to process this without hysterics.

I know I'm lucky, I know so many woman who don't get 2 hours; 2 weeks; 2 months nursing.

I've had almost 11 months.

And for every break of my heart I have a baby pulling at my shirt in tears; banging her head against me. She is getting desperate. I feel as if a fissure has opened up between us, I don't know what to do.

I try to look at the bright side. I can buy real bras again and be comfortable...

Maybe I'll get some new non-mommy undies to go with them?

Now I don't have to stress about being bit?

Not much of a bright side.

For the record; 2 years ago tonight, Halloween night, was my last shot of Rebif. I remembered the elation I felt when I took it. Freedom, for at least a little while. From the constant needles and medications. We were going to try and have a baby. That last shot meant the first step for a whole new life.

In the back of my mind the reality of having to go back to it was always there. I just didn't realize when it came down to it, how much it was going to sting...or how much nursing would change me.

Tonight those 2 years of freedom and our 11 nursing months just doesn't feel like enough for me.

It certainly isn't enough for her.

ten.

My bumble, my bubble, my boo.

I felt you move inside me at just 14 weeks and you have never stopped. You are perpetually in motion.

Even when you sleep.

not so wordless but at least it's wednesday.

No journalist left behind act.

Exactly how wrong is it that the article claiming my area schools have failed the states standardized tests (again) was littered with grammatical errors?

Seriously.

I went to WebMD so many times that I got a hemorrhoid.

So I'm just wondering...

Why exactly is it that stores hide things like Preparation H and Tucks?

Is it some kind of sick joke? Are the managers up there looking through their big brother cameras laughing at my plight?

I looked under Itching/Burning Creams.

I looked by Medicated Ointments/Wipes.

Nothing. I paced the aisles at the over sized retailer becoming increasingly aggravated. My problem becoming increasingly aggravated. Having never had this issue before I was at a total loss.

I saw no signs for Embarrassing Ass Problem.

No Secret Sore Relief.

Suffice it to say the Get Your Anorectic Treatment Here signs were lacking.

Are they trying to make it so I have to ask someone? So I have to go up to the baby faced teenager stocking shelves and listening to their Ipod; the one who is yet to experience anything publicly mortifying with their body; and inquire.

"Where is the ass cream??"

Finally I spotted a grouchy looking older woman. She was walking as if slightly uncomfortable and B-lining for the Antacid sign. I followed her.

I saw her stoop down and pluck a box off the shelf. Bingo.

I never thought to look in antacid...I mean, isn't that, while still connected, a totally different part of the body?

When she walked awkwardly from the aisle I swooped in. There they were, boxes of my needed relief, on the bottom shelf.

WTF?

Adding to all of the walking and looking and stressing about asking I now have to squat to select my savior?

Oh cruel irony your name is retail.