Here’s the deal: giving up isn’t an option. Am I feeling grief, rage, devastation, hopelessness, et al.? Sure the fuck am.

But I have a 7yo daughter with the biggest heart and kindest soul who still believes that women and girls can do anything.

Gonna watch Rogue One this morning.

Mood.

https://youtu.be/sBBchS3U6gQ

Fuck-and I can’t overstate this enough-the mother fucking patriarchy.

Fuck it.

I hope E. Jean Carrol has an exit strategy. And Liz Cheney. And countless other women and men who have spoken up and tried to warn people. Bet they’re all feeling existential dread far worse than I am this morning.

Fuck morals & ideals, Joe. These next few months need to be figuring out how to flex that presidential immunity for official acts to shield us from some of the worst parts of projects 2025 that will be upon us soon.

Hubs told 7yo, “mommy is feeling sick and needs rest,” when she came home from school today. She went up to her room, across the hall from ours, changed her clothes and sneaked into my bedroom, tucked her stuffed fox into my arms and sang me the Love You Forever song.

And my hormone ravaged soul hasn’t recovered since. Can’t stop crying. 😭

In the thick of it now. Every part of me hurts. 💔

Today I go into the Dr.’s office to get the mifepristone I need to finally begin expelling the wanted-pregnancy that we learned was non-viable 18 days ago. 18 days of my body still believing it’s pregnant while my heart aches. With today being the final day before the election, it’s not lost on me that this timing is fortuitous, despite the heartbreak. This could be the last time I could get this medication I need to treat a miscarriage if everything goes upside-down.

Really, with Monday approaching and all the anxiety and sickness over that, I should really be feeling less rejected by the other Hindu moms (and there are a lot) in my daughter’s class… but here I am in my feelings over it. I get that I’m married into it and that’s different. But our kids love each other and want to hang out.

I mean, speaking with a healthy amount of bias, I am a fucking delight.

Taking kiddo to a fellow first grader’s birthday party today at a bouncy house party center. I feel such immense pressure to “look nice” instead of just embracing the weary vibes I project far more comfortably.

Props to the hubby who intercepted the kiddo who can never seem to sleep in when mom gets a day off. If it weren’t for this contemptible cold, I might have made it to 8:00am. Alas, a valiant effort made by all.