I had a horrible night last night. I am freaking out about having reached the point, 20 weeks, where a loss will no longer be called “miscarriage” and I am just a few weeks from where some babies reach viability. Yes, this should give me hope but I think I’m going to have a hell of a time from now until we pass 27-28 weeks. And I really have been doing so well, until now.
The badness actually started in the early afternoon, when I decided to work from a coffee shop for awhile. The chairs were uncomfortable, and when I’m not comfortable, I get nervous. Nervous about impossible things – like my uterus being positioned in just the right way for my cervix to shorten. My imagination gets away from me. So then I wanted to go home, back to the refuge of my futon and carefully positioned trays. But then the sun was too bright on the drive home and I had forgotten my sunglasses so I was in an even worse mood. I suddenly was exhausted, and thought that maybe I was having an upside down French fry day, like Lori’s Baby Girl earlier this week, but inexplicable grumpiness is not nearly so cute on a 30 year old. I decided that I probably just needed a nap. Only that didn’t help. It just gave me a headache.
Eventually by the evening I at least felt human. Being the comfortable old couple that we are, we played a game of Triv.ial Pur.suit, the 1980s edition. I finally won after getting the answer to this question correct, “What US Supreme Court Justice was reared on a 198,000 acre cattle ranch?” after confusing Richard Marx with Michael Bolton at least 3 times. And I was reminded of a question Niobe asked last week when I was so disgusted by a question Josh got about an, uh, 10-foot Twinkie that I had to let him read the card because I was gagging at the thought of it.
Off to sleep where I had so many bad dreams I still feel like hell this morning. The most bizarre one was about my family going out to dinner and for some inexplicable reason my sister left my nephew in the car without access to his wheelchair while we ate. I was terrified he would try to crawl across the parking lot to get to us but for some reason I wasn’t brave enough to demand an explanation or the car keys. In another dream my sister was angry with me for something and wouldn’t let me see my niece.
Don’t continue reading if you don’t want to know of yet more losses in the world to be angry about. I’m crabby about things that have nothing to do with me as well. I’m so sad for Msfitzita, and Amy, from another blog I read, and I am distraught that another of the Morrison sextuplets has died, leaving only one still alive and just barely. But of course that’s not unexpected and even as the family deserves their privacy I wonder/doubt if we’ll see a media reversal on calling these sorts of births “miracles” rather than flipping tragedies now. Without blaming infertile couples. My G-d I can’t imagine the pain, burying 5 babies, possibly 6, in just 7 weeks. And I wonder if they have doubts, and incredibly profound regrets.