That's right, it's viability day today. 24 weeks holy wow.
I realized while reading Post Secret the other day that a chunk of what's making me so mopey and broken-nervous-feeling lately is how much those losses hurt, in addition to the perpetual infertile-freak-out-things-will-crash-at-any-moment nerves. Last winter instead of getting out the usual decorations for the festive winter holidays, we just made blue snowflakes out of paper. It was a great game for everyone and the spouse in particular made some achingly lovely ones. We decided to collect a new bird ornament every year after the kid chose a pheasant as her ornament (and then it got hung on the naked and unstable curtain rod until we moved, so it could be a few years before it resurfaces). I snuck a small blue bird ornament into the mix as well, because even though everything was sad and lousy and awful, the Blue Bird of Happiness was out there somewhere, waiting to be chased until it turns up right at home, where it always was.
Sidenote: The Blue Bird is the classic early 20th century play first produced by Stanislavski, that really famous Russian teacher of acting. In it, a brother and sister go off on a journey to find happiness by catching (a sight of? I don't recall if they need the bird or just to see it) the Blue Bird of Happiness. In the end, it turns out to have been in their house in a cage all along. I often forget how spoiled I have been to see so much truly great theater, and that trying to create it is a valuable endeavor, even if you don't get there.
I think that as time goes by, I'm going to get out the blue paper and make some more snowflakes because it's still all right to be sad for what will never be, even in the middle of that silly blue bird twittering like crazy right here at home.
Sidenote 2: The kid's latest career aspiration (based solely on interests) is to be an ornithologist. One of the mobile devices got a guide to North American birds app installed and she's been tormenting the cat playing bird sounds whenever the opportunity presents itself since. Cutest thing ever to see the cat come tearing into a room, set to pounce on that noisy bird, and then look totally lost when THE BIRD IS A LIE.