Today, at the official 22-week point, The Wife went into labor, delivering Fiona Quinn at around 9:30 a.m. Our child lived for just under two hours, dying at about 11:30 a.m.
All that's left now is incidental detail -- recovery for my wife who's been bedridden for seventeen days, yet another homecoming without a child in our arms, massive hospital bills, and lots of grieving.
This blog will probably lay fallow for a while now. Possibly a good while. We'll see.
UPDATE: Or maybe the blog will lay fallow for a few hours, until I get sick of moping. As moping goes, I'm more sprinter than long-distance runner; I can mope a four-minute mile, but no way can I mope a marathon. So anyway, the beat goes on.
Thanks yet again to everyone who has offered comment and support, or support without comment, or whatever.
I'll be posting a bit less for a while, but I won't be dropping off the face of the earth.
UPDATE II: Earlier, I e-mailed a good friend of mine about what's happened. Later on, I logged back on to find two messages in the Inbox. One was from that very friend, exorting me to just survive the current crisis. "Survive. Just survive."
The other message? A spam advert for free cigarettes.
Talk about distilling life to a single binary alternative.
UPDATE III: Thanks one last time for all the well-wishes. It's all very moving, and highly appreciated.