For 3 months its all I could think about.. October 27 (or close to it) was going to be the best day of my life. I spent every second after video calling one of my best friends to have her verify that, in fact, the test really was positive (yes, Karsen knew before Aaron. Sue me.) I thought about how amazing that one moment was going to be. I planned how it would happen – in true hippy fashion I wanted a raw, no medication, my playlist playing, and Aar right by my side delivery. I pictured her on Aaron’s bare chest every time I would lie my head there. I thought about what outfit she would wear-overalls, because I thought I knew she was a boy. I thought about how I would introduce her to her siblings (my dogs.) I thought about how everything would be different.. And, well, I wasn’t completely wrong, I guess.
Nearly six months later, everything is different. I have finished the classes I was taking then and started a new set instead of taking time off like I was supposed to. I started a healthier lifestyle, so I am 30 lb lighter instead of heavier. I have completely changed what I wanted to do with my life, I decided to be a midwife instead of a cardiothoracic nurse so that I can take part in other people’s best days. My marriage is different. Aaron and I look at each other in a completely different, more real sense. Aaron found out last month that he’s deploying in January, so we have even more changes ahead. Life has been crazy. It has been devastatingly beautiful and hauntingly miraculous, as life usually is. I have found my own little family here in California, and for the first time I feel I have truly found my home in the world. The past 6 months have been quite the adventure, but that day is still so profoundly bold when I look at the calendar.
This will probably be my last post just about this loss, so I’m just going to get this out there, I try not to be that person. I really don’t want to be a person so lost in their own despair that I forget the there is a future and life keeps going if only you let it. That’s not the kind of emotion I feel here. It’s much deeper. It’s as if large events in my life leave physical scars, but if you touch those scars all of the emotions from the event that caused it play back just as strong, all over again. Dates are those scars for me. I almost didn’t schedule the appointment where I found out I lost her because it was April 8, the day that her Uncle Riley died just four years before. But just two days after that, April 10, is a great day, because that’s the day I met Aar. I have all these different dates memorized because I never want to forget the memory behind them. October 27 isn’t a memory though. Pregnancies that end in miscarriage don’t have due dates. Those dates don’t scar, because they never really happened, so instead they stay as open wounds. From there you just have to do your best to keep them clean and covered. Those dates don’t bring up memories, they fester an ever present wound.
It’s been rough, the past week or so, knowing that I’m only a month away from the day that no longer means bringing a brand new perfect, screaming life into the world. I don’t know what I’m going to do that day.. I don’t know how I’ll feel. It’s a Thursday, so I’ll probably wake up, get dressed, go to work, and be with one of the loves of my life. I’ll call my mom on my way home and then maybe go on a run. I’ll take a bath that day, I love baths when I’m upset. I’ll go to bed early after thinking all night about how empty my house is. I won’t go crazy, and I won’t lose control of myself. The last six months were made for screaming at God from a bathtub, counting how far along I was supposed to be, and hating every pregnant woman I see in the grocery store just a little. I’ll probably delete the Facebook app off my phone for the day and cry all by myself in that bath. I’ll sleep that night next to the most amazing man though and he’ll hold me extra close, like he always does when we’re in pain, selflessly holding me together. That day will hurt, but it won’t kill me. My wound will not be infected. The next morning though, I’ll re-download my Facebook app (barely able to though, because I’ll be shaking from withdrawal), I’ll hold my head extra high, I will apologize one more time to God for screaming, I will vow to think less about my would be one day old child, and I will start smiling at those pregnant ladies in the grocery store. I’ll repeat over and over in my mind that I can merely will myself to heal, and crazy enough – it will work.
Two days after I start to heal myself, October 31st, is my favorite day of the year. I haven’t decided yet what I’ll be, or if I’ll even go all out like I usually do, but I can tell you one thing: my life will be the same. No matter how much it’s changed, it will be the same. That’s okay for now. In all of the screaming matches with God I’ve learned one thing; I don’t know anything. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do this, but I don’t know that I won’t be able to either. I don’t know when my life will finally be thrown into madness by the gift of some one completely perfect. I don’t know if that perfect little person or any of their siblings to come will be a gift from God, a stranger, or someone I’ve already met. I do know that God wrote it on my heart though. I know that when he made me, it was to be a mom. I’m looking up. I hope that maybe this period of my life and the amount of publication I gave to it can help someone in need of knowing they’re not alone. I’m going to keep this site up, but the articles will probably vary in topic from this point on. I experienced a great miracle before this terrible tragedy. I plan to hold onto that miracle moving forward.