Seeing as how I think that just about everyone is frustrating me on purpose (well, apparently two people, but the only two people I've had contact with today and as you'll soon see one of them barely made contact) I'm guessing that the stress of waiting on test results is getting to me. John will not nap, despite his clear NEED to nap. While I was trying to get him to nap, the UPS man made some sort of mouse-like tiny knock on the door then left a notice, since I didn't hear him at all and you can't get more than thirty feet away from the door in the entire apartment. So, not only did I miss the UPS man, who has my birthday present from my mom (look!) but John's still awake an hour later. I missed the first delivery attempt yesterday while a getting poked and prodded and biopsied, so I was so looking forward to a package of Moda fabric. Luckily for Christian, he took an early bus and left before I was up today, so he's escaped my wrath.
The scariest thing about all of this for me isn't the whole cancer thing. If I had to, I'm 100% sure I could take that on and win. The thing I'm most afraid of is not being able to breastfeed this next baby or any future babies. I almost cried reading Soule Mama this morning, probably because I base so much of my mothering on nursing that I don't know how I'd even BE a mom without it.
Enough whining. I'm off to read this awful Winnie the Pooh book called "Does It Float?" (really) for the billionth time since John loves it for some unknown reason in the unrealistic hope that he'll fall asleep THIS time.