Jam had a third miscarriage on Saturday. Early Sunday morning, really. There were mild cramps and spotting when we were buying fish'n'chips for Saturday lunch during our day down the coast, and then there were more cramps and some bleeding and then in the middle of the night we woke up and there was pain, a lot of pain, and not too much blood, but enough that the job was certainly done. It's easy enough to talk about and people have been very nice, and my parents are sending us back down the coast for the Easter weekend (not to the same place, I'm relieved to note). And there are worse things that happen at sea. Et cetera. But for crying out loud.
We bought some screen-printing stuff and we're taking it away with us and we're going to try art therapy. Even if it can't help us come to terms with three non-babies, perhaps it'll ease the pain of waiting SEVEN WEEKS to see a specialist. Time's a-wasting, friends. Time's a-wasting.
We both know that it's going to work out and that we will, at some point and in some way, be parents. But we want it now, and we're tired of not having it while lots of other people have it very nearby and by the way what will this mean for work and home-owning and the state of our ovaries and all the rest?? Rant over. Hope asleep.
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