Tonight, when we were putting Charlie to bed, he started talking.

"Daddy loves Mommy. Mommy loves Daddy. Charlie loves Mommy and Daddy."

We had a group hug. Then he said,

"Daddy, Mommy very much. Mommy, Daddy very much. Charlie, Mommy and Daddy very much."

Every day, he gets the tiniest bit sweeter.

~~~~~~~

I go in to get a hi-res ultrasound on Thursday to try to figure out why my right ovary has decided to go on full-out attack. Oh, and hopefully someone can give me a clue as to when this miscarriage will actually be finished miscarrying. That would be nice to know. The not knowing how permanent this is, how this affects my fertility in general, the lack of basic trust I have in my health care professionals - all of it really shits the bed, as a friend said to me once, after miscarriage number 2, I think. Maybe 3. In any case, the longer this lingers, the longer it will be for me to put number 6 in that cobwebby card catalog drawer in my brain labeled "Misfortunes, Solutions Unknown". Until then, I walk around feeling like I actually still have it in me, and I have no way of getting it out.

Thank god for Charlie, man. We say it all the time. Thank god for Charlie.