Tales from the 8 percent.

After rereading my overwrought entry from yesterday, I'm quite eager to shake off the gloom. First, some facts from the last week:

Jen did in fact go to the doctor on Friday to find that our 10 week old little guy (yeah, we'd been calling him a he) was in fact no longer going to be any longer. After some time, we both came to the realization that we were desperate to go through with our trip to Duluth over the weekend; maybe not to put our minds off of it so much as to try and outrun some grief. Jen, however, informed me that her doctor had told her not to go.

"But I still really want to go," she said. "It would be really nice to be up there right now."

I replied instantly. "I hate doctors. They're dumb. Let's hit the road."

And hit the road we did. The car was packed, the girls were strapped in. We had barely broken the Blaine barrier when Marj called us to inform us that she had contacted a couple medical professionals, gleaned some advice, and we were in no way to attempt the drive or else we would have to find someplace else to stay when we got there. Gotta love mothers.

On our way back home, Jen came clean and told me that her doctor had informed her no less than five times (five times!!) that she was not to be travelling or going to Duluth or existing without easy access to a hospital. She had not, however, given Jen any orders on not misleading her husband.

In a show of ridiculous sympathy and generosity, Marj came down on Saturday to help out during the weekend, and then just took the kids outright on Monday when she went back north. So we've been kidless this week, at once a great blessing as well as a gnawing loss. But we're enormously grateful to our fantastic mother and father/-inlaws for snatching our kids away and letting us deal with all this by ourselves.

I would be remiss, as well, if I didn't say "thank you" as well to all our friends and family who have written and called to wish us well (and to Katy, the flowers are beautiful).

Having said all that, I'd like to point out some Fun Facts about miscarriages that you may not know. We didn't know anything about this until it happened to us, so I'd be tickled to save somebody else the embarrasment. Here's what I've learned:

- Clinical miscarriages occur in about 8% of pregnancies. This differs greatly from the 89% that many people seem to be quoting me in an effort to make me feel better, god bless 'em.

- Despite that 8% figure, everyone you've ever known has had a miscarriage.

- Our kind of miscarriage is technically called a "spontaneous abortion", which dovetails nicely with my new year's resolution to be more spontaneous. Check!

- People have it all backwards about miscarriages. They can be a lot of fun! You get to go to Walgreens! You get to try and improvise a non-toxic reply when the cashier asks how your day is going! You get to use a heating pad in August! Plus there's all that super freetime you get if you still have to wait to pass the fetus! Suck it, Wisconsin Dells!

- If you are driving somewhere on an errand while waiting for the inevitable spontaneous abortion to happen, and you catch yourself absent-mindedly drumming your fingers along to a new Weezer song on the radio, you will absolutely feel terrible about yourself for it. And I kinda hate Weezer now, too.

- There is a very finite amount of things you can say to your spouse about what is happening.

- I think a lot of marketing could be done to cater to people who are spending the weekend having a miscarriage. Walgreens could offer half-off all issues of People, extra absorbent pads, and Hershey's chocolates. Papa Murphy's has had worse ideas than a "Spontaneous Abortion Meal Deal" - Two large pizzas and a 2-liter of mello yellow.

- Reading up about ectopic pregnancies on Wikipedia is almost enough to make you feel better.

That's about all the wisdom I can muster for the night. Despite that much of this sounds depressing, we know we're incredibly lucky for the two beautiful children we have, and largely because of that fact, we are doing okay.

Day one hundred and ninety two.

Life is absurd, so why not end with a picture of a turkey? I was leaving work late yesterday, and this little fella was pecking furiously at his reflection. He was so irate, I was a little concerned that he would peck my achilles tendon off if I made a break for it. I made it out unscathed.