I thought I would have so much to say about this in-between place, about the slowly fading nausea, the slowly increasing crampiness. But the truth is, I've sat down more than once to attempt this post, and found myself, again and again, without words.
It's a similar experience every time I've picked up the phone in order to schedule one last ultrasound before J~ goes into surgery tomorrow morning. I have not been able to bring myself to dial the number.
At first I was hard on myself because I felt like such a wimp, shying away from the facts: Either it's dead already, I told myself, or it's not quite dead yet. Wouldn't it be good to know?
In the end, I decided to let it go. There are enough bitter pills in front of me. Why rush to swallow this one? Besides, judging by the level of cramps I feel right now, it won't be long before I'm bleeding again, before it's all over. I'm not there yet, and I'm hoping I don't get there before J~'s surgery, or before he is home on Wednesday. Ideally, not until Friday, when B~ goes to his mother's and his grandmother -- here to help out for the next few days -- goes on to visit her sister.
One brighter note: I feel incredibly blessed by all the support I am receiving, in comments on this blog, from my women friends in the area and from afar, from my co-counseling community (people with whom I take turns receiving and giving peer-counseling care and attention), and from family.
This is definitely a hard time, but I have been through far worse.