***If by some weird chance you are male and reading this right now. Walk away. I'm serious. Walk away*** For the time being I'm naming my uterus Myrtle.

Dear Myrtle,

You are mad. I mean T-I-C-K-E-D off and I don't blame you. It's been almost three years since you've experienced anything that could even be considered on the scale of "normal."

I know trying to find center again is hard. You have carried heavy loads and you have done hard labor. I get that and I'm thankful for it, but Miss Myrtle these tantrums must stop. In fact I think it's safe to say you are making a bigger fuss about getting back on our regular schedule than you did about evacuating the babies from your premises.

So seriously sister it's time to pull it together. Go start a support group with my hormones and my sleeping patterns, I hear they're a little rattled too. I don't care how you do it but its time to get back in the game. Woman up honey, we don't have time for this, the little one is about to start crawling.

I'm glad we had this little talk.

Love always, K