Honey, I shrunk the sweater!

Welcome to the ICLW crowd (I wish for a crowd, ha!), thank you for stumbling over here, my story is here.  I have a stillborn son, and am now pregnant for the fourth time this year (no, I am not a gerbil, although sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to be one).  I hope this one sticks, and it is looking very hopeful so far.  Or maybe I am feeling very hopeful because I am deluded, but either way it's good. The previous losses were the stillbirth in Jan 2, 2010, and two subsequent biochemical pregnancies, which I know I should not classify as "losses" in the real medical sense, but they just felt that way to me.  I also don't get pregnant the old-fashioned way.  I have a costly and addictive IVF habit, only marginally more justifiable than crack.  Come to think of it, if I were a crack addict I would be pregnant probably even more often, and really, who gets pregnant more often than a gerbil?

Now, I wonder what possessed me to take on the ICLW commitment, at a point in my life where I need to sleep almost non stop.  The pregnancy demons (also known as the pregmons) are taking over my brain.  On top of needing to sleep the moment I get back home from work in the evenings, I am also engaging in embarrassing and destructive behaviours.  Two days ago, when I was bleeding and thought I am miscarrying, I decided to wash my clothes as the pile of laundry was threatening to take over my closet and suffocate my purse collection, and we can't have that happen around here.  I put in the wash (on regular cycle) and then in the dryer, my 500$ Brunello Cucinelli white cashmere sweater!!!! It is the single most expensive piece of clothing that I own(ed).  Even my wedding dress was cheaper.  And I loved loved loved that sweater to death.  It is still wearable, if you like three quarter length sleeves.  Ughhhhh.  Please anyone out there in the universe reading this story, tell me that you have done a similarly stupid thing, otherwise I will continue to bite my nails until they fall off.

Also, if anyone out there can confess to eating 10 chocolates today, that would make me feel less alone as well.  For all my vegan pleas, I seem to be lacking in motivation, or something short circuited my brain and I forgot that I am not supposed to be eating junk food anyway.  I. Must. Absolutely. Stop.  I know that putting weight on in pregnancy means having to keep it until nine months later when one can start exercising and dieting again.  Every indulgence that will add on an extra two pounds (like the ten chocolates) is something that I am doomed to carry on my love handles until next fall.  MUST REMEMBER.  If only I had a brain to record all these details with.  Unfortunately, it has been taken over by a small placenta, and it will be returned to me sometime late next year.  Until then, we'll have to make do with the temporarily modified IQ of 64.  I wonder if I qualify for government assistance.  Perhaps they can send over someone to do my laundry, since obviously I can't handle that complex task myself.