Jul 28 2009
I am famous for keeping my emotions inside. When something hurts, I often try to deal with it on my own. I prefer to cry in private and try to make myself feel better. At the urging of some very dear souls, I am working to share what’s inside. I’m learning that we need to share and lean on one another in life.
I have been sitting here for the last fifteen minutes staring at the blank page not knowing where to begin. A small, quiet smile just spread across my face as I realized that I have been looking for the right “opening line.” I am in awe of the way my mind works, how hard it focuses on the little things when I hurt so that the hurt does not seem quite so big.
There is no right way to share this so I will take a deep breath and dive in. I was pregnant. It was new and we were over the moon. My daughter was going to have a little playmate. We had only told family and a few friends as we planned on making a big announcement when I’d reached three months and was safely out of the danger zone. That wasn’t meant to be. On Wednesday – quite suddenly – I lost the baby.
Perhaps you are wondering why I am choosing to share such a deeply personal experience in such a public arena. Well, the reason is simple. Keeping this a secret only adds a weight to it that it does not need; there is enough weight on my heart as it is right now. That is not to say that I want to have a big discussion about it here. I’ve only just come through the physical part of it; I am nowhere near ready to tackle and discuss the emotional. I’m merely sharing because keeping it a secret makes me feel as though I’ve done something wrong and I know, at least in a logical sense, that there was nothing I could have done to stop what was about to happen.
For days, I could do nothing but watch movies; I craved distraction. I could barely read and the mere idea of writing or drawing was a joke. It is only in the last 24 hours that I put pen to paper, that I began to draw and write short sentences. Coming to this page was a huge feat.
My emotions are terribly raw and I exist somewhere between feeling I am the richest woman in the world for all the love and support I have around me, for the blessing that is my family and feeling truly angry at a situation that seems pointless. Yes, I have been searching for answers – that’s the controlling side of me, the side that fights the idea of letting go and instead longs to find meaning, create meaning when I am creating a piece of art or writing. I am aware that there may be no answers.
In choosing to share this with you, I am not looking for a response. I know things like this can make people uncomfortable; you do not need to say anything. I am not trying to make you feel anything. I am simply sharing because in this space we have all been sharing our lives and our journeys. That’s what life is about.
This is my life. These are the imperfections. These are the obstacles and milestones along my journey. There are moments of joyous celebration just as there are moments of incredible pain. People often say, “It’ll take a bit to get back to normal but you will.” No, I won’t. I won’t get back to that place I was in on Tuesday because on Wednesday something happened. Something changed me. That’s what life does, that’s what experiences do, that’s what creation of all kinds does; it changes you. And even when it aches right in the center of your chest, even when you feel like you have a million questions and no answers, even when you thank God for the people and the love that you do have, even when you promise not to take things for granted, even when you shake your fists to heaven filled with rage, even when you want to run and hide, even when you pray for the pain to go away, you change. You grow; it’s inevitable. That’s what we are all doing here. Good, bad, ugly, glorious we are living life, creating things that reflect what’s inside and letting that process change us.
I’m hurt, angry, sad, confused, happy, quiet, scared, lonely, overwhelmed, loved, and a million more things at the same time. Right now, I can’t promise to be anything for anyone but I’m here. I’m present. I brought myself to this page. I was honest. It’s a start.
