Let me start by saying this: I typed this all out once and then… AND THEN… my computer deleted it. 🙂
One summer, the beavers flooded camp. or… something. I can’t really remember the specifics. But I was deep into my reading of Madeleine L’Engle’s Crosswicks Journals and one of the books was called The Summer of the Great-Grandmother. I LOVED the idea of taking all of my thoughts and memories and revelations and tucking it away in a season defined by something memorable.
So I opened a Word Doc on my computer and titled it “The Summer The Beavers Flooded Camp,”… and that’s all she wrote. Literally. I never put a single word into the document. Was that the year of norovirus? The year I discovered that I’d literally rather sit and watch a slug cross the road than go for a run? The summer of pita chips & hummus on the main road? Who knows. I have the memories, but nothing big or fancy to remember it by. And honestly, if the norovirus hadn’t swept through camp on the very last night of summer camp, that would have been The Summer of Nora, full stop.
Back to now.
After years (literally YEAAAAARS) of casually saying “I know, I should go to therapy about this!,” I finally did. Shortly after I started attending therapy, I found out I was pregnant (though we were actively trying to prevent it). That pregnancy ended in loss. Then in the wake of that miscarriage, I got pregnant again. Last week, that pregnancy ended in a loss.
The thing about these pregnancies, these past few months, is that it’s never been straight forward. From the jump it wasn’t “hooray I am pregnant!” and then been knocked off my feet with a loss. It’s been a very tentative, uncertain situation. Both times. Which has meant a LOT of waiting. A lot of “I don’t know, I’ll go back next week” or “I’m waiting to hear back,” or my favorite… “I did get an email confirming my pregnancy about 2 hours before my HCG test results came back confirming no pregnancy.”
SO MUCH BACK AND FORTH.
It’s like when we experienced a tornado a few years ago. We crouched in our friends’ neighbors’ basement, huddled together in the dark, power out, tornado tearing past us, with nothing to do but just sit. There’s an element of trying to prepare – going under ground, grabbing the baby formula and the pets, a flashlight, etc etc etc. There’s an element of trying to repair – diving into the wreckage and damage, salvaging, healing, processing… but there’s this time when the tornado is literally sweeping past you and all you can do is just sit. and wait. and wait. and wait. Wait until it’s time to tentatively come up from the ground and assess the damage, accept the loss, and take steps towards healing.
Today was my last session with my therapist because she’s leaving the clinic I see her at. and today felt like the day I emerged from the storm and said “okay, all of that is over. Now it’s time to see what life looks like in the wake of the storm.”
It felt like the closing of a chapter. Not the end of a story, the completion of a character arc, but just the end of that particular chapter. The Spring of Discovery and Loss.
Continued in: Miscarriage #1 and Miscarriage #2
