Monday.

It's just one of those random markers that pops into your subconscious unbidden: I would be entering my second trimester by the end of this week. I have to go in for one more blood draw either tomorrow or Wednesday, and I fully expect to see an hcg level under 5.

I just went to the library today (again - I have been devouring books this winter) and picked up a book called Surviving Pregnancy Loss: A Complete Sourcebook for Women and Their Families by Rochelle Friedman & Bonnie Gradstein. It looks like a good mix of anecdotes and scientific information about miscarriage. I feel like I probably know all there is to know by now, but somehow I need more. I have accepted my miscarriage, but mere acceptance feels unsatisfying. I want to get my teeth into something, get a grip on it, own it in some manner. I sometimes feel like one more semi-anonymous victim, tossed on the pile of women who've lost a baby. I guess what I want is to feel like a survivor rather than a victim.

Last night I told Mr. I think I have "doggie depression," turning a joke about our morose Unicorn on its ear while gently informing him that I am running to end of my ability to cope with everything that's gone haywire in our lives lately. He asked what he could do, and I told him to just hug me. All I really need is to know he's there. One of the cruelest things about miscarriage is that this is the one thing, the one experience, the one part of me I can't fully share with him - it's just impossible. It's not possible for him to feel what I feel, and even if I could somehow show him, I wouldn't want to... I don't want to drag him down with me.

I don't know why I feel so low today. Yesterday I talked to my sister-in-law and her mom about the miscarriage, and it felt good to talk about it, and felt good that they cared. My SIL shared her experience with me, and I felt so strong and like I had a handle on things. Today, not so much. I just fell down the stairs to the basement, carrying a tall vase on a metal stand that I need to work on for a client. I slipped near the landing, landed on my ass, and the foot of the stand went right through the wood paneled wall. I sat there and cried... then crawled to the top of the stairs and cried some more, into the Unicorn's fur. Poor Unicorn, he's seen too much of that in recent days.