Hello Sluggo:

If you’ve visited my blog before, you may now notice the absence of pregnancy-related stuff that was here before… Just so you know, we lost that one. A miscarriage that our obstetrician says was probably due to chromosome issues, so we’re not out of the game. Nature rights itself, and in this case it was probably better this way than to give birth to a troglodyte child with a hand growing from the bottom of his or her left foot or something like that. Still, it stings.

My wife had a manual vacuum aspiration performed on Monday. Though she said it was more painful than she expected, even more painful than giving birth to our daughter two years ago even, she seems to be doing very well.

Perhaps the pain was closure for her, and for that I’m glad. But being that this is my blog, and my space to blow off steam, I’m going to totter off on the proverbial limb and confess here that I don’t think I’ve had my closure yet.

I can’t stop thinking about it: The month I spent thinking I would be a new father again. The moment that the doctor said “Well, I have bad news…” The whole experience of shifting gears from trying to hire a landscaper to fix our current shitty backyard for one child to looking into buying a new house with an extra bedroom and larger space for two children, and now back again…

I feel like I have all this shit on my shoulders and I don’t know now what to do with any of it. Last night and this morning things just kind of fell into place. All the little things were climbing up my ass at once to become one festering sore… Holding a coworker’s week-old son… An unintentionally somewhat cruel comment by a relative… Selling a piece of baby furniture we no longer use… Kei’s post-birthday spoils littering the house… I don’t know what I’m leading up to, I just know that shit still stings. Maybe I’m angry, but I don’t know who I’m angry at. Maybe I’m just sad.

I’ve been avoiding writing about the experience, just hoping that I could simply delete those previous posts and move on. I haven’t wanted to write about it because I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to feel it again. But it seems that this is the only true outlet I have. Someone will read this and think I’m whining, maybe someone else will say they’ve been here too. I can’t concern myself with that. Don’t like whining? Turn the fucking channel.

Now I wish I had left everything up… Or at least saved the posts for a later decision as to whether I should delete them, but I didn’t. They’re gone,  like the prospect of seeing that child grow and prosper. Blah, blah, blah. Turn the channel.