It was four weeks yesterday that I had the miscarriage, and it's a milestone that's whapped me upside the head. I'm not doing so well, folks. Who knew? I thought by now I'd be moving on, and instead I'm right back where I started. I'm hoping that with therapy and time and some helpful pharmaceuticals, I will regain the ability to move through the day and its many challenges without crying or unleashing my rage at some unwitting bystander (oh, my poor husband). If posting is somewhat light over the next couple of weeks, you won't stop coming here, will you? Of course you won't. Stop nodding like that.
I've tried to respond to all the amazing emails I've received, but some have slipped through the cracks. And I'm realizing that taking care of myself might mean not spending hours giving back to everyone who was kind enough to open up to me. So if you don't get a response, please know that your email (and/or comment) was read and appreciated, and that I would write a response if I weren't so busy watching "What Not to Wear" episodes and staring at my hands. I lead a rich, full existence.
But did you know? I actually managed to compose my Alphamom column for last week, somehow. And that's not all! As you may have noticed over on the right-hand column, over there, I'm in the anthology "Sleep is for the Weak," (the best title ever in the history of anthologies, if you ask me) edited by the infinitely capable Rita Arens. I'm proud to be in such excellent company, and so glad that Rita persevered in her quest to get this book out. I can't wait to read it.