Day Three

I was doing fine, but I forgot about day three. That dreaded day three. It doesn't matter how you feel in your head, because when the hormones take a nosedive, they're taking you with them. My OB told me about the curse of day three when I lay in my hospital bed weeping, inexplicably, after delivering a perfect little baby three years ago. The day three business of dropping hormones also happens when you get a sick fetus sucked out of you, and this is just one of life's unfair, dirty little secrets. You can't be okay about it even when you really feel okay about it, because the physical process is going to force you to cry.

And cry.

And cry and cry and cry until you're limp and the only thing you know how to do is binge eat ice cream.

I also drove myself to get sushi for dinner, blasting Florence Welch on the way. Next up: a reckless caravan of additional verboten pregnancy foods including unpasteurized cheese, meat sandwiches from food trucks, etc. And, as soon as I'm done with this doxycycline, a bottle of wine.