“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

It’s three months today since I lost Max… and that’s all I have to say about that.

We were suppose to go back to the birthing unit on Tuesday morning to get Max’s chromosomal test results. I phoned the day before to confirm and asked if they had any results to give us, knowing that they didn’t. They located a doctor to give me the results over the telephone and she said the histopathology done on the placenta showed no abnormalities, which we already knew. She then went on to say that there “wasn’t enough specimen collected” from Max to do the chromosomal test. Err, wtf?? I told her that our geneticist had spoken to the lab and was advised that the specimen had grown a fungus in cell-culture and due to that contamination, they were unable to do any further testing. She mumbled something about that being correct and we ended the call. Why do doctors presume I’m an idiot that they can lie to? Do they really think I’m just going to meekly accept whatever bullshit story they spit out? The radiologist pulled the same crap on us when we had the morphology scan — instead of telling us what was wrong, he gave me a line about there not being “enough” fluid and sent us off to read the damn report in the carpark. Mother fuckers.

So, we were thinking trying again this month and had mostly decided to go ahead when I got a call from the geneticist. When we last saw her, she said she wouldn’t call me unless there was something wrong. Now she wants to see me, without the husband, next Thursday afternoon. That’s a few days after I’m due to ovulate and now I don’t know whether we should just go ahead blindly or delay another month. I just know that if we do delay, the geneticist will probably say something like “oh your tests were all fine, have a happy life” but if we try to conceive, the geneticist will probably say something like “oh for the love of humanity, cease and desist from all attempts at procreation as your genetic make up is such that all of your babies will be horribly disfigured and/or missing major organs”.

Can I get a break?

Well I finished the Twilight saga on Sunday evening (is that a record?) then promptly fell into a mild depression. I have never experienced anything like it — I can only describe it as some kind of separation anxiety brought on by Edward and Bella’s story ending after having lived and breathed it for five days straight. Rather than risk admitting to some borderline mental condition, I’m just going to run with the “I’m still fragile after losing my baby and this was the first thing I’ve been interested in since then, what did you expect” line. Heh.

Meanwhile I’m still waiting for Edward to appear at my window in the middle of the night!

My awesome sister and I saw a preview screening of the Twilight movie at Broadway on Thursday night. After the initial viewing, I rated it 6 out of 10 but having now seen it *cough* eight times *cough*, I’m giving it a solid 8.5 out of 10. I’m also rereading the books because I still can’t get me enough Edward. Why are boys in books always better?? Dammit.