Back to Front

I realize this blog is kind of upside down. I am telling a story with the ending at the top. Maybe that will force you to read it all. Like, you read a book backwards, right?

So, I will plow on with the upside down book and then I'll get into talking about real life and what happens after the dot dies, or the bean, or the babe or whatever you call your cells and post and sac.

So, the wedding. My mum's face. The family. Let me explain.

My husband, Z and I, got married as I was on a three-month fiancee visa. We did it on November 2, 2006 and waited two years to get married again, with the family and friends in a big fancy party. On November 2, 2008. Nice, huh? The icing on the cake was, of course, the dot.

We giggled to ourselves at night about it. We read the book again and again and couldn't wait to tell the moms and dads and mums and uncles and brothers. Z's brother is leaving for Japan with his two kids and we thought this would be PERFECT - a new little one to take the place of the two that were leaving.

We bought snazzy photo wallets from Coach to give out at the rehearsal dinner. "To fill with pictures of your new grandchild". Z even had a speech - I am not kidding.

So the Friday before the 2nd - the wedding - was when we found out about the dot. My lovely mum from England was the only one who knew. Her face nearly killed me. Then we had to go out and be festive. For about a week. It sucked big time.

I did get drunk at the rehearsal dinner. So much so, Z swears I broke the toilet. I was so angry and pissed off. I wasn't serene. I didn't deal well AT ALL. I was hurt and sad and I just wanted to laugh and be merry and, ultimately, punish myself. I think this happens a lot. A lot of my miscarriage-friends have done the same thing.

Then, the bleeding started. On the day of the wedding. I know the gods were laughing. The fuckers.