Eames On His Chariot

...if only he could actually lasso Nico.

Eames Tries to Lasso a Cat

Please ignore the destruction. I'm in the middle of rearranging...

And I have a one year old.

And he distracts me with these kind of antics when I should be cleaning.

Speaking of His Sense of Humor...

Loss

Yesterday, I went to my first prenatal doctor's appointment.

After an hour spent going over my previous pregnancy and mapping out this one, the nurse wheeled in the ultrasound machine.

Neither she nor the doctor could find a heartbeat.

They call it a missed miscarriage. Apparently, the fetus stopped developing a week or so ago, yet my body hasn't quite figured it out. All those plans are suddenly gone. Instead, I have 3 options: 1) wait for my body to catch up, which it hopefully will in anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, 2) use medicine to make my body expel the fetus, or 3) surgically remove it. All these options seem less than stellar.

So, in the meantime, I'm waiting a couple of days to see how things go. It's kind of surreal to still be pregnant, feel pregnant, and yet...not be. That is, I think, the worst part. Realistically, though, the physical part is probably the easiest. The fetus wasn't healthy and nature has taken its course.

Emotionally, it's difficult. I bought "Big Brother" pajamas for Eames on Monday. They're sitting on the table still, because I haven't found time in the midst of summer session to wash them and put them away. Luckily, we could choose to have another baby when Eames is 5 and they'd probably still fit him--slow grower that he is. Last week, I moved the list of baby names we came up with last time around to my laptop, so I could start thinking about names for this one. And, of course, I'd already started making room mentally and emotionally for another baby.

Because it is exciting, this family building. More so than I ever would have imagined. Unlike my career, which I have continual doubts about, I feel like I'm good at this. That it really matters.

So, this is a blow in some respects. But, despite the fact that it sounds cliche, I really, truly believe that everything works out for the best. My life is proof of that. I had already started rearranging our life to fit in a new little person, and this changes things. Suddenly, opportunities that I'd written off for the near-future are feasible. Our life looks different than it did a two days ago--for better and worse.

Undoubtedly, this is sad. And I cried my fair share of tears last night, leaving my eyes swollen and head aching this morning. But, we will heal. I will heal. And, as I was reminded this morning, we have been incredibly lucky. Josh and I found eachother. I never imagined I'd love someone as much as I do him. Aspen is turning into a beautiful woman. My parents are halthy and happy and in love--still--though they are all too far away. And Eames. After a sorrowful night, Eames reminded me this morning that life is so, so good by tangling himself up in curtains and headbutting me and the cats, and walking around with a cotton swab hanging off his lip like a cigarette. His sense of humor is growing each day and that makes me happy. Really happy.

So, for now, we remain three.