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It’s Dr Jerry time once again. Had such a sad day. Probably a result of not finally falling asleep until after 4am… dunno.

Was awakened this morning by Jennifer opening the door and yelling “Yoohoo”…. oops. Forgot that Jen has her sewing lessons on Wed mornings and I keep the Mag. She’s crawling now, and it’s truly a funny, funny thing. I’ll add video at some point soon before she figures out the whole leg thing – right now, she’s curling one leg up under her butt, and scooting in the most awkward, unnecessary way. It’s so interesting to watch her motor skills develop – things that seem so obvious just aren’t when you’re 10 months old.

But even as I sat in the floor with her and tried to keep her from chewing on the dog toys, I felt an intense sadness. I do love the Maggie so, but right now, even though I don’t want to admit it, she represents what Baby Rettew should have been. I was almost overwhelmed by her “perfectness” – healthy, beautiful, smart, constantly learning and absorbing and growing. A healthy baby – something that I’ve always felt entitled to, is now something to be hugely grateful for.

After Jen picked Maggie up, I went back to bed. Yes I did. Crawled right under the covers with a Hershey’s bar and bag of potato chips. I am a textbook model of depression. Lovely. Got up just in time for Dr Jerry at 5.

I felt like a different person walking out of Dr Jerry’s office an hour later. Cleansed, exhausted, too tired to function… but in a much, much better state of mind. Dr J actually had a pretty easy time of it today – he mostly facilitated Bobby and I talking to each other, and then just listened. Bobby talked about how helpless he feels – how he wants to fix it, provide a solution, resolve the problem, and he can’t. So he feels frustrated with himself, with the situation, and with me, and that frustration presents itself as anger. He feels guilty that he’s not grieving for the baby, because to him the baby wasn’t real yet. He’s worried that he’s working too much and leaving me alone to eat potato chips in bed (damn it, how did he know?), but he’s also feeling the pressure of being the sole income with a small start-up business. He told me that he doesn’t care if I ever go back to work – that we’ll make it work financially, and he trusts me to decide for myself if I want a job. He’s not worried about infertility, miscarriages, adoption, or anything baby-related… he feels absolutely certain that we can handle whatever is thrown our way.

Yes, we could have had that conversation at our house for free. But having an objective third party there to keep me from interrupting Bobby and to keep Bobby talking was invaluable.

You’re right, Ginny Plant, Bobby does need a hug. He’s a gem.