one post to make everyone uncomfortable and wish I hadn't written it

Do you know what it means every time I start my period....AGAIN!
it means another month of realizing that I'm not pregnant and my baby is going to be 4 in 4 weeks and I feel like the butt of a seriously un-funny joke.
two kids in 5 minutes and then I actually want a baby really, super bad and oops....sorry.....all out.
no babies for you.
I adore my children. I think they are the cutest, funniest, cleverest folks. I guess there's only supposed to be two of them.
there is a weird feeling like I'm not worthy or some crap like I haven't done a good enough job with my two so I don't get three?
teenagers and hyperlame people get babies the way I used to get babies....without even trying. Super nice people also get babies and get to plan their children and say, "I think I want my children 2 years and 3 months apart.....well, looky there....I'm pregnant!"
I love pregnant people. I love children. I love procreation.
I am allowed to have this one little blog where I hate everyone and all people with working reproductive tools.
there are people who can't have even one kid.
I'm not trying to please the world and pretend that I'm not sad for my own isolated experience unrelated to anyone else's experience with infertility/singleness/whatever.
I'm just mad right now that for the 16th month I have woken up on some random day different than the month before and realized that I'm not getting to throw up for 40 weeks and increase my body mass index by 47% and raise my stress level exponentially and be hooked up to an i.v. every so often to replenish my fluids.
i aspire to the sickness that ends in life.

as if there weren't enough things i feel inadequate about. as if it's a bad thing to be married and happy and financially stable and want another kid to teach and protect and love.

whatever, tampax pearl.
bring it on.