Alright Universe, enough.

People generally think I have scads of patience.  My career requires me to perform years' worth of research, strategizing and ruminating before seeing an outcome which may or may not be successful.  I try to roll my eyes rather than fly off the handle when my six year old acts like she's six years old. 

But let me tell you, right now I am brimming with the nervous anxiety of impatience as I wait, and wait.... and fucking wait some more, for my body to acknowledge that I am carrying a dead baby.  Because trust me, there's no sign of acknowledgment right now.  Not even a spot.  And it's driving me fucking insane.

I DO NOT want another D&C for reasons I am too impatient to list here (also since a good chunk of this blog is about my dealing with the awful after-effects of D&Cs).  According to Dr. K, misoprostil pills won't really work unless I am already spotting.  So my acupuncturist needled me up this morning in ways to induce labor, and called in an order for some strong herbs specially brewed in NYC that will hopefully help start moving this process along.  A heavily accented man (I know not from where) just called me to confirm my address to send these mysterious herbs too.  (I do have scads of trust - hopefully not misguided - as you can see).

God, please let this work.  I don't have the time for surgery (I mean, who does?), but Universe, hear my plea:  I REALLY don't have time for this.