Honestly. Fine. But also "fine".
Friday we were at the hospital for 13 hours (when we had been told to expect about 3-3.5) because I lost a lot of blood during the procedure and it took 5 liters of fluids and several hours of monitoring to keep my blood pressure high enough that I wasn't in danger of passing out (after it happened once there they weren't letting me leave until they were certain it wouldn't happen again). But I haven't had any pain other than some very very intense but short-lived cramping on Thursday night. So in that respect, fine. It's like nothing happened. I told Louis I kind of wish I was hurting more because then it would signify that I really was 10 weeks pregnant and did really lose the baby.
I am also "fine", and if you've seen "The Italian Job" with Mark Wahlberg you know what I mean (& if you haven't, go Netflix it right now). When I'm busy I'm ok, but then there are moments I'm certain I'm having a mental breakdown. I consider myself a little mental anyway, but I'm not really sure what normal is in this situation, so I don't know if crying about the fact that Clinique discontinued the eyeshadow color I've been wearing since freshman year of college is normal or not. ;)
Random side note: There are some people I haven't heard from that I expected to and I'm not sure if that's because they don't know or don't know what to say, and while I definitely assume they just don't know it's been a lesson to me that if I ever know that a friend is hurting I need to say something, anything, to let them know I am there with them. Saying the wrong thing is not necessarily worse than saying nothing. And everything everyone has said has been so kind and encouraging and helpful. And this is not accusatory to any one person, just an observation!
I think the hardest thing right now is that as lonely as I feel regularly (just because I'm a stay at home mom whose 16 month old's and dogs' conversation skills are limited), I feel even more so now. Even though this is not a unique situation and several people have reached out saying, "I went through this too, let me know if you need anything", I still feel isolated. And yet I am scared to leave the house. Until yesterday I hadn't worked up the courage to see anyone other than strangers. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it- I can't do either without falling apart. I am so so SO thankful for the digital support (& baked goods support!), but I don't think I can really talk about it in person yet. It's hard because I did thoughtfully & purposefully make this journey public, but it would be easier to hide if it was secret. But I think if I was hurting in secret I would be upset that no one knew the pain I was in. Double edged sword I suppose. I'm frustrated as I see life going on around me (why has no one else's life come to a standstill?)(yes I realize this is irrational and nonsense), and yet I don't know what to do with myself as I wait for the next few months to pass. (Which I'm not happy about for several reasons, a recently realized reason being that I would like to "get right back on the horse", but the forced wait period has the potential to make next go around even more anxiety filled than it already is.)
This week we moved Carter upstairs to his big boy room so that will be my distraction for awhile. I need to alter his window treatment, hang pictures & his shelf, find a system to organize the few toys in there, and I want to paint the door with chalkboard paint and I've come up with a way to make a tent for him. Then I could paint our bedroom, hang curtains, maybe paint the bathrooms, the kitchen, add cabinet knobs...? How many projects can I come up with? Probably a lot. Hopefully enough.
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