Yeah, by now I'm sure. I'm still surprised by my own unruffledness; I'm not exactly skipping around and singing, but nor am I wallowing. I think if I'd gotten a positive pregnancy test earlier in the week it'd be a different tune, but as it is I'm not getting what I already expected not to get. So I'm okay.

Physically, for those not versed in this particular experience, and I wish that this applied to most everyone, I'm hovering right in the middle of the cosmic pain scale. A miscarriage, even this early, is more painful than a regular monthly event, more uncomfortable than a sprained ankle or a tattoo, but not as bad as a severe migraine, strep throat or childbirth. Ibuprofen deals with it, though I found last night that top-shelf chocolate martinis (two, thankyouverymuch) help take that edge off just fine, too.

Even feeling emotionally okay, I'm deeply appreciative of the comments here, and notes and phone calls, because this okayness is certainly not a given. Any number of small details, slightly altered, could have snowballed into the sort of baffled, betrayed self-loathing that I've done twice before.

It's actually quite bizarre, feeling this normal right now. It's as if I shouldn't laugh or enjoy the kids; I don't feel guilty so much as confused. To the point that I wonder if I'm just innocently grazing in a field, unconsciously waiting for that big lizard foot to come smashing down. But I don't think so. I hope not.

I'm obviously not quite myself tonight, because it has taken almost 45 minutes to come out with this pathetic little excuse for a post, and it's neither witty nor intense. Just vague. Which is really how I'm feeling - like someone has turned down my volume, except for these odd little moments of moodiness which everyone just loves.

So I'm going to go back to my heating pad and stop with the drivel. For now.