For Myself…

I am off to make those very phone calls she mentioned. My HCG numbers yesterday weren’t great, and although the doctor said everything could “still be fine,” I have been crying hysterically for, oh, the last 12 hours or so. There is nothing we can do but wait, as, at this point, nothing will tell us more but an ultrasound, which we’ll do on Friday. In my head, though, it’s over. So I may as well go make Obama phone calls. Otherwise it’s get in bed, pull the covers up, and feel extraordinarily sorry for myself. That’s not what I want to remember my part being on this historic day. Barack’s Grandma died; he’s still showing up.

So it’s off to The Echo, where the final day of phone banking is taking place.