A Living Love

I don't want to be THAT girl. The one that sits at home for two weeks sobbing, acting like a weak willed psycho chick. The one that returns to the land of living only to be bitter and disillusioned. I don't want to push my baby out of my head so that I can be strong either. I'm trying to find my balance. There are hours where I'm fine. I can clean or go shopping with my sister and be okay. There are still hours where I cry because I can't quite make myself call the Doctor and ask for the pills. (which I finally did this morning and they haven't called back yet).
I almost made it to work this morning. Then I panicked. What if I broke down when I called the Dr. and all these guys I work with that didn't know I was pregnant stared at me in confusion and asked me what was wrong?

Then my mother called me. For the first time since this happened. She thought tough love would be appropriate. Telling me that I wasn't meant to have this child so I needed to get off my ass and get rid of it so I could get pregnant again, so go to work and stop crying. Yes. Because THAT is SO the right thing to say. Then she tells me she has so much empathy for me and the only way she could get through a conversation was being tough because SHE is so hurt and grieving. FAIL. BIG FAT FUCKING FAIL of MOTHERHOOD! Atleast I don't have much to live up to to be Mother of the Year in this family. My husband came home shortly after this as I was sitting in a tub full of steaming hot bubbles trying to scald away the previous conversation. He had forgotten the company credit card and his first words were "You aren't going to work?" I can tell he's frustrated with me for staying home today but only because he is confused on how I feel. I think he thinks I sit at home and cry all day. I told him about the conversation with my mom and she is now on his shitlist. Great.

I have felt such an outpouring of love these past few days. From friends and family. From my online community. The blog entries from other people grieving for me are unbelievable. The lives my story has touched through IF, pregnancy and now loss. I had no idea. My baby was loved. I am Loved. How can I ask for more than that in a time so hard? How can I be hateful and bitter and depressed when so much love and so many prayers are coming my way? I have an entire Catholic church in Winston-Salem praying for me (and I'm not Catholic, never stepped foot in a Catholic church). A friend of mine stopped by last night (the one I got Scarlett from) and stayed with me for a few hours. When she left she called her exhusband and told him what happened. For the first time since their breakup, he called my husband to offer him condolences and let him know that even though he's been caught up in his own world and been a horrible friend to us, that if we needed anything he would be here and if we needed them together they would come, no matter what was going on in their life.

My BFF Sarah recieved her notice that her divorce was final on Monday but she cried for me and my baby instead. This baby who had such a short existence, who will never know all these people, brought people together. Showed them love and hope. Showed me how big my world is and despite it crashing on my head, showed how much I am loved. My husband and I are strong. We are stronger together and we have loved a child. Alfred Lord Tennyson gave us the famous line: "Tis better to have loved and lost, then to never have loved at all." Those are hard words to live by when you have lost, but I have known the love of being a mother. I may never have held my child, but I have felt my husbands arms around me and cradled a growing a life inside me. I have felt my heart grow. I can not be bitter about knowing what that's like. I can not be bitter about touching so many people's lives. I can not let my baby's short existence end in hatred and me turning negative because that is not honoring it.

I can't promise not to cry anymore. I can't promise not to write about the hurt but I can promise to honor my child's memory and look to the future. To carry on in creating a family of this love that has grown from me. To continue to fill this house with love and laughter, spirit and hope, family and faith.

There is a quote from one of my favorite movies Ever After (Drew Barrymore) at the very end: " And while Cinderella and her Prince *did* live happily ever after, the point, gentlemen, is that they *lived*." My prince and I shall live, and in doing so, the memory and love of a child shall live with us.