I am not particularly happy to be alive this morning.

I got about one hour of sleep.

Me, Tristan, and the living room all reek of Tristan's vomit.

Tristan threw up because he was hacking uncontrollably on this cough that just keeps getting worse and worse.

I cannot give him any cold medicine because my stupid idiot husband did not bring any home from the store the other day EVEN THOUGH it was the #1 MOST IMPORTANT THING on the list DO NOT COME HOME WITHOUT THIS.

I think about what the nurse said the other morning and wonder if the benefits of the antidepressant that keeps me sane outweigh the risks to the baby in my tummy.

I wonder if I am a risk to the baby in my tummy.

I wonder why I wanted another baby when I don't particularly like hanging out with the ones I already live with.

I don't want anything bad to happen to myself or my family, but at the same time I just wish I and/or they could fucking disappear. Just for awhile though. Really.