2008 December 11 | Heir to Blair

Gin will work, but a beer bong would be more efficient.

11 Dec posted by heirtoblair

FYI: This rather large gin & tonic is made of 50% alcohol.

Why, you ask? Because we just got the breakdown of hospital costs from 6 hours in the Emergency Room & D&E procedure.

6 hours of personal hell to the tune of $9,000.00. Oh, and we owe 20% of that. You do the math. (for those of you that didn’t pass 7th grade, that’s $1800 of our Wachovia account)

Yeah. So we’re drinking tonight.

beer2 Gin will work, but a beer bong would be more efficient.

Because if we don’t get drunk, we’ll cry. And that’s not something either one of us is interested in doing tonight. Because that $1,800.00 must come out of our beloved Baby Fund for which we scrimped & saved for over a year. Setting us back $1,800.00 until we can financially TTC again.

$1,800.00 for our sweet Harpie, who we will never hold this side of Heaven. ::blair takes a long swig of gin:: God bless Beefeaters. Cheers, bitches.

p.s. this doesn’t count the charges from the ob. so add at least a few hundred to that one.

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 Gin will work, but a beer bong would be more efficient.

No glove, no love. Write that down.

11 Dec posted by heirtoblair

Or should the title of this post be “Like a virgin?”

ahhh, post-D&E sex. Let’s discuss it. Because God knows I won’t stop discussing my sex life with Nate simply because I’ve lost a baby. I fear my blog would lose all purpose if we weren’t contemplating ass clapping every so often. (side note: no ass clapping occurred as there is no need to get knocked up at the present time)

I was scared. I’ll admit it. I’ve heard horror stories of girls breaking down into sobbing, snotting messes for their first intimate rendezvous after a miscarriage. Not to mention that my vagina still felt like it was lined with barbed wire. And Nate was terrified that he would hurt me.

apprehensive wife + scared husband = teenage-virgin-in-the-back-0f-a-chevy-tahoe-esque sex

::side eye:: eerrrr…right.

But it went smoothly, thanks to my good friend Mr. K. Y. Jelly. Lots of it. I mean…lots. Because you need lube to make it past barbed wire. It didn’t hurt, I didn’t bleed (that was my other fear, that it would start the 15-day stuck pig experience all over again). We both highly enjoyed ourselves, wink wink nudge nudge. And no, I didn’t cry (which Nate appreciated because there’s no lower blow to the male ego than a female that blubbers post-coital). In fact, we both ended up laughing while we basked in our success.

The only downside is the necessity of condoms. Gawd. We haven’t used one since July, so it was difficult to snap on the rubber. Because nothing feels better on barbed wire than the friction of rubber (hence another reminder to my m/c girls to lube it up). But we absolutely cannot get pregnant now and my chart is uber-wacky, so I’ll be riding the Trojan horse for a few weeks minimum. Don’t feel sorry for me because I lost my baby; pity the condom sex, please.