Doctor's appointment is tomorrow, but there is precious little doubt about what happened. I have what you might call the corpse.
This time I'm totally unapologetic about talking about it.
After the initial animal shock/screaming/crying, a grim black humor has descended. A sarcastic numbness is in place. I'm too angry to feel tender and sentimental.
I can feel something like painless contractions continuing as I type.
I had to listen to goddamn Pachelbel again on the hold music for the doctor's office. It's farcical, really. I used to like that piece of music. I used to love it, actually. Thanks, Seattle Ob/Gyn Group. Maybe when I come for my appointment tomorrow you can fix my favorite meal and have my favorite scents wafting through your waiting room.
The contractions are getting a touch more painful. Well. That seems realistic.
More later. I appreciate all your congratulations, truly, and I'm sorry to give you whiplash again.
Baby, I will feel more for your absence as soon as I am able. I promise.