cleanup, aisle 4

Oh, I'm just so thrilled that Knocked Up is now out on DVD. You know, because it's superfun to watch Katherine Heigl's dumbfounded shock at her accidental pregnancy on the commercials playing over and over and over. "Oops, got pregnant on accident with some schlubby pot smoking loser, and of course it's going to stick and be healthy and end in a baby! What the hell is a miscarriage anyway?" J and I went to see this about a month after miscarriage #1. I thought I was ready and I just really wanted some greasy, salty, tongue-numbing popcorn. I was wrong about the whole "being ready" thing. As the credits rolled (awesome- pictures of the cast members/crew as teeny tiny babies with their moms) I sat there sobbing and gasping and wheezing and J just sat there all helpless because he kind of knew all along that going to this movie was a baaaad idea but had quickly caught on that you don't fight with the hormones, you do as they say, so we went and it ended badly. So you can imagine my joy walking through WalMart today and spying the big huge rack of Knocked Up DVDs. Remember the movie Mean Girls, how Lindsay Lohan's character would have those crazy visions of herself doing inappropriate things? That was me in WalMart. I pictured myself grabbing ahold of the rack, knocking it over with gusto, and jumping up and down and all around stomping the crap out of those stupid DVDs. Then running over the whole awesome mess over and over and over again with my creaky wheeled cart. (How do I ALWAYS get the creaky wheeled cart?) Anyway, I literally had to shake off that daydream and remind myself to keep walking towards the grocery aisle.

I have the same Lindsay Lohan crazy visions thinking about Thansgiving (casserole tossing, wine chugging, platter breaking). Due date #1 was November 27, and I remember not so long ago thinking I would just absolutely positively die if I wasn't pregnant again by then. In my mind, that would be the worst possible thing that could happen. Pffft. Way to go, dummy. See how much worse it could be? I remember imagining our families coming in for the long weekend, watching football and shoving our faces, all the while on alert for possible contractions or sudden rushes to the hospital. I wish life had a rewind/redo button. I want that Thanksgiving back. This Thanksgiving capital-S-sucks.

So I posted on the nest (my beloved and very supportive message board specifically for those going through a pregnancy loss) about feeling a bit down and angry about things today. I've got one fantastic friend on there, a sweet and witty east coaster in the midst of all kinds of adoption craziness who suffered multiple losses of her own. She's upbeat and encouraging and very good at making me feel more normal. I confessed that I'd made the mistake of venturing over to the pregnancy board where I tortured myself by viewing a post from a girl due right smack dab in the middle of April (aka, EDD #2) celebrating the news of her latest and greatest ultrasound and as a result, I had a total damn meltdown (happy for her, devastated for me). In my emotional freak-out I mentioned that while for the most part I'm getting by okay, sometimes there are these wild moments where I feel like I'm thisclose to retreating into a cozy bathrobe and spending my days talking to my cats. This lovely friend offered the following advice, which I deemed so humorous and comforting that it had to be rebroadcasted here for me to read over when I need a giggle (Jill, I hope that's okay): Mandie, You are right. It is not fair. I hate that you are going through this. I have fooled around looking at other boards and usually come away sobbing and mumbling to my stuffed animal (Dudley) the duck who wants to throw himself off the roof to escape my ramblings, but deep down he knows he can't fly. So talking to your cats really is not that crazy. Now, if you lose the bathrobe, and run down the street talking to say, shrubbery, we'll revisit crazy. You are just rightfully upset, grieving, and madder than hell.

Note to self: keep on the robe, don't talk to shrubbery. I think I can handle that. Sometimes just knowing there's a kindred soul out there murmering to her duck makes me feel a whole lot less lonely.

Thankful for: my recipe not flopping tonight, J's excitement over his new finance position, my wreath (yes- still), helping G with his e-harmony/future wife finder, time spent in the yard today with the fancy felines, 47 short hours until GFK touchdown