But first, an update. I was so freaking PISSED yesterday at my cat that I totally blew past my 100th post. Oh well, big whoop. I didn't have anything exciting planned, but still. The finger is sore, the arm that received the tetanus shot is sore, and the arm that received the IV of antibiotic is sore, too. But only 9.5 more days of antibiotics and this whole incident will be behind us!
Anyway. I have quite a few pictures that make me sad. More than I think any of us really deserve. And you know what kind of pictures I mean. After coming home from the hospital, after delivering Calla, I was in a weird, parallel universe. I'd just delivered our baby, and I had pictures, so, maybe I should share them? But wait, no, that's not right. The baby in the pictures is dead, and everyone else, who would normally be beaming and laughing and cuddling--they're all sobbing. So, hm. Maybe I should keep these to myself.
I did show a few people. I didn't know how to do it. "Do you want to see the pictures?" I'd ask. And then I felt weird--like that scene in "Stand By Me" where they go see the dead body. No one really wants to see it, but no one doesn't, either.
At least that was how I felt.
So I have another picture that, to me, is equally sad. It was taken by who knows who the day I came home from the hospital. The first picture with a little-girl-sized hole in it. The first day of the rest of our lives, I guess. Fake smiles, exhausted, puffy faces, wishing to be anywhere but where we were, even though we were in our favorite place.