May 20, 2002
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Living.
I haven't written here for the past week, because...
Because....
I thought I was pregnant. 7 days and counting.
But this morning in the dark, I discovered I wasn't. I disengaged my daughter's sleepy arm from around my neck, and prepared to face the truth.
I sat outside in the dark, watching the moon die and the sun come up, listening to the cicadas and getting rained on. Smoking my first cigarrette in ages, watching the smoke plume up into the blue blackness.
'Okay' I thought. 'You aren't. So you have a choice. You can sit here and smoke butt after butt and rage and moan and weep and wail about how damn unfair it is to have your hopes raised like that - and it is unfair - or you can get up, go back to bed with your hub and your child and restart the day a little later.'
I chose the second option.
Not to say I haven't had a good cry. Not to say I haven't cursed that deity (whose existence I seem only to believe in when life is cruel). I cursed it long and loud. And I wept over the unfairness as I kissed my daughter's head on my pillow, and held her little hand as she whimpered and searched blindly for the comfort of a big solid body next to her in bed.
And I hugged my husband, who had finally started allowing himself to dream of babies over the weekend, and who found himself instead having to comfort a wife who hadn't really allowed herself the luxury of hope anyway.
And then I got up, and made coffee and put the toast in the toaster, turned the tv to The Teletubbies and ironed a shirt and made lunch and tidied up and kissed my sad husband goodbye and managed a smile and a wisecrack to send him out the door and got in the shower and got dressed and averted a crisis with Elmo and sang Twinkle Little Star...as normal. What else can you do?
You can choose to live your life waiting for hope to become more tangible, or you can reach down inside yourself and yank that dream out and live among the things that you can touch and feel and love right now.
I choose the NOW.
Comments (22)
There is no better time to live. Good for you.
Steve
Ok open up your arms, then wrap the around you, squeeze tightly, next visualize that it is me hugging and loving you!
ditto.
Ah, Stress.
It's so hard to live in NOW when there is so much MORE we want. I know. Give yourself a hug from me too.
I'm sorry stress. Big hugs.
What a wonderful attitude you have.
I'm so sorry...
Sorry for your loss. Glad you have decided the better option of the two.
good choice. wake up your husband and try some more!
I think letting go is hope...when you trust the universe enough to let it do it's thing. I'm sure you'll be pleased with the outcome. Love.
Yay for you and your resolve! (and what they said)
I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have nothing helpful or useful to say apart from that I'm sorry.
And what fine taste in literature you have too. 'Distance' and its last haunting sentence, 'They had leaned on each other and laughed until the tears had come, while everything else - the cold and where he'd go in it - was outside, for a while, anyway'.
The sadness there in the transience of everything good, love and time lost, and yet the hope and affirmation of knowing the importance of the here and now; the way we have to hold onto what we have...Most things are probably cold comfort when you're as disappointed as you are now. But when it comes to reading someone who truly *knows*, you couldn't get any better than Ray Carver.
Mind yourself.
{{{hugs}}} I'm sorry.
-Michele
That was beautifully written...good luck trying again. {{{{hugs}}}}
Much loves to you !!
I'll just echo what everyone else has said. I'm sorry to hear about your sadness, I've been there before. But I am also happy to hear about your resolve to see the good side along with the bad. And I would have to strongly second the option that "TheHorseYouRode" said - go get your hubby and try again! If for nothing else than the fun of it.
G'luck hon, and keep that chin up! *hugz*
Try to remember that that same deity gave you Mouse. Sounds like you're dealing really well - I'm impressed. Remember tho' it's okay to rage too. I love you.
Your strength in the face of this heartbreak is phenomenal. Much love to you, stress.
This has totally touched my heart. I love your attitude and your honesty.
I've heard a lot about your site. Now I understand why. You are wonderful. I love everything I read here -- you're funny, you have depth, and you're just a good writer.
ditto with all of the above...and {{{HUGS}}} cause Ive been there and understand the pain of waiting
*hug*, I feel your pain. I am 22 and will never be able to have children, and I absolutely love kids. *hug* (again)
tonight's wish will be for you
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