"I don't want to talk about time travel because if we start talking about it then we're going to be here all day talking about it, making diagrams with straws."

The surgery went fine, all is well. I'm super tired but to be honest I think that may be the cold as opposed to side effects from being operated on.

I'm relieved this is done. I'm annoyed with myself I still want to try again. All these complications, AGAIN, doctors appointments, people having to take off work, and my selfish ass can't think of anything but my imaginary rainbow baby. My friend knows what I'm going through, the obsession you feel, not understanding why you can't have this one thing, when it's what you want most in the world, how do you give up that hope? I just don't know. I don't know how to not want a baby I can take home. I don't know how to say this is enough and I need to move on. I don't know how to give this up. But I don't know how not to be embarrassed for wanting it either. I hate that feeling. Like I should know better. Conflicted, as per usual.

We got there at the ass crack of dawn and while I was doing the breathing treatment my anesthesiologist came to talk to me. He said he could talk to my doctor about doing it under a local if I was worried about being under while sick. I assured him I'd much rather be knocked out for this procedure and after he walked away turned to J and said; "He better not try and give the shitty drugs for this thing, getting the good shit was all I had to look forward to in this damn mess." J looked at me sideways and said; "Maybe not using a ton of drug seeking words within earshot of your anesthesiologist would be something to think about." Hmph.

The surgery people are very nice in my hospital, my intake nurse I've met before, a hummingbird of a woman, flitting to and fro, lightly running, to get things accomplished. Not worried....excited? She wasn't like a cheerleader or anything, very quiet voice, subdued hand gestures. I don't know how best to describe her, but I want to see her outside of her job, what is she like at home?

In the recovery room I come to and hear the nurses talking, Beth, southern, very friendly and arm patty who takes care of me is saying in a no nonsense voice; "These cases always make me think of my Maureen." (Maureen? Margaret? Martha? Not sure, I was on drugs people.) The other nurse says; "She was before your son right?" and Beth says; "Yes, she'd be 20 now." They go on talking about picking out names, how hard it was to agree on one for her little girl.

She was the one to call J's cell the next day to check up on me. I watched him as he answers questions and then he tenses up and says; "What?! I don't know?! I didn't ask her about that!" He listens and says; "Yeah, she's right here." and shoves the phone at me. I put it to my ear and Beth is laughing; "I asked him how your bleeding was and he didn't handle that very well." My sweet husband.

I'm fine. Was taken very good care of by J, he bought me brie and flowers, made sure I rested. I'm doing as best as can be expected. Again.

*My quote is from Loopers. I spent most of this movie mildly confused, and very distracted by the CGI making Jose.ph Go.rdon-Le.vitt look like Bruce Wil.lis. It was not a good look for him. But I actually did like the ending, so much so I might watch it again and try and get the finer points of this movie. So that was a nice surprise.