Pfft.

And, just like that, my old body decided it wasn't up to the challenge of gestation. I don't even have room in my heart to be upset about it, which - oddly enough - upsets me. Chalk this up to yet another spin and jerk on the rollercoaster that has been my life for the past year.

I'm always surprised by other people's ability to see the best in my situation when I can't see it myself, but I suppose we all do the same thing. While I have identified many things that have freaked me out over the past 12 months, other people have always managed to say, "That's such a great opportunity! Just think what you could do with... (fill in the blank with something that horrifies me but that other people think is wonderful)." I doubt I'll share this particular development with other people, though, because I never believe a miscarriage is a happy thing. I might be relieved; this might be expedient and no doubt it is all "for the best;" it still isn't happy.

So now I can go back to the work at hand, of taking care of my existing family and trying to find a decent job. I will keep on listening to self-absorbed people, and smile benignly when they ask (parenthetically, and more out of politeness than anything) about me, listening just closely enough to what I say to seize on the moment when they can resume their own story lines.

I'll still be blogging, though; this is the only place I can at least pretend to have someone's undivided attention for a few minutes. I understand I'm not alone in feeling this way either, as I know many of you play similar roles in your daily lives. So here's to the listeners. (And thank God I'm not actually a therapist.)