Thanks for your support.

Thank you all so much for your lovely comments on yesterday's post.

It just sucks.

And!  I am having a really hard time actually HAVING a miscarriage.  I have scheduled a surgical consult for a D&C next week, but that's just the consult.  Who knows when I will be able to have the actual procedure?  And we might have to tell the kids because the whole thing is running into our spring break trip.

I wish our culture talked about this more because I want to know that my experience is normal.  Or that it's not-- either way.  I know a lot about reproduction but almost nothing about this.

(Side note:  When we were talking to the OB in the Bad News Room, she noted that I seemed knowledgeable about the terms she was using and asked if I was a nurse.  I explained that I wrote my doctoral dissertation about Planned Parenthood.  Ben only heard my side of the conversation, so he had NO IDEA why I would be mentioning that and just thought I was some kind of weird braggart.  It was pretty funny.  Ben has been pretty good about being funny but sometimes his jokes make me want to kill him.  Just a little).

But!  Life must go on.  I have work t do and parties to plan.

 I LOVE taking Dorothy to the library.  She's so sweet and rowdy, which is an excellent combination.

 I planned to have a bakery make her birthday cake, and I bought this Troll doll to go on top.  But then I decided to just make my own damn cake using a bundt pan to made Poppy's dress.  I actually think this is a fairly terribly idea, by I am going to go for it anyway.

 I decided to throw some muffins together for breakfast yesterday morning.  They were highly anticipated.

 And a big hit.

We had to stop by Harry's school for a state fair his class was putting on.  Each kid did a report on a different state.  Harry chose Alabama because sportsball.  On the way into his class, we saw his locker and died laughing:

 As you can see, Cooper was thrilled.  He thinks Harry is the coolest person in the universe.

I was so committed to the Day Without a Woman yesterday. I wore red.  I visited a local woman-owned bakery.  Neither Ben nor I went to work.  And!  I crushed the patriarchy by boycotting gestation, even.  I laid in my room from 3:30 in the afternoon through the night and did no house or child work waiting for the second dose of Cytotec to work its terrible magic.  But it never did.

Seriously, I am so angry with Anthony Comstock right now.  If he hadn't made birth control into pornography, Margaret Sanger wouldn't have had to relocate it to the clinic to buy respectability, and I could get a tincture from a traveling saleswoman or one of my friends would be growing some menstrual-cycle-restarting herbs in her garden or when you buy essential oils from a Facebook friend there'd be an oil that would help this interminable process.  Gah.  I want some closure here, you guys.  No one ever told me that  this could take weeks, and it's all just so sad.