Recovering at the Cottage

The night of the D&C, I followed up the Oxy and Tylenol with more Tylenol. The only kind that we had that wasn’t combined with caffeine was a children’s Tylenol, chewable grape flavour. I had cramps and some bleeding, but it only lasted for about 24 hours post D&C.

I felt well enough on Friday to bake these:

IMG_0123.JPG

And then Friday night we packed up the car and the dogs and headed to the cottage. The cottage is only about two hours away, and by about 9pm we were settling into the stillness and quiet of our little home on the lake. It was pitch dark, which is a delight when you’re so used to the never ending light pollution of the city, and there was a chill in the air, but it was clean and fresh.

DW fetched some wood from our wood shed, and started up the wood stove in the main room. We just sat there and stared for hours.

Last week I had read Sarah Waters’ Tipping the Velvet, a lesbian classic that for whatever reason, I never got around to reading until now. I was amazed by how racy it was! I have not read 50 Shades of Grey, but I imagine that the sex scenes in Tipping the Velvet might be comparable.

Friday night I started Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven, which came highly recommended by Erin Morgenstern (who wrote one of my favourite books, The Night Circus), and let me tell you, I could not put this book down. I finished it by Saturday, ranting and raving to DW about how amazing it was, and how I wish I could join a book club just to have friends to revel in this book with me. Then I thought to myself, how amazing it would be to have a lesbian book and knitting club- especially right now with the seasons changing. Autumn and winter are high season for certain lesbian activities, such as candle burning, tea hoarding and drinking, knitting, reading, and the cooking of vegan comfort foods.

Anyways, back to the weekend. Other than reading, we finished another jigsaw puzzle:

IMG_0134.JPG

And roasted marshmallows in the fire:

IMG_0129.JPG

I thought very little of our pregnancy loss, which means that I might be moving on, I’m learning to exist with this experience being a part of me.