In Another World

I had a miscarriage, not recently in time (5 years, 1 month and 25 days ago), but sometimes it feels recent in my heart.  Some who have experience greater tragedy, implore me with words, and looks and sighs to move past it (or get over it).  But I don’t want to.

On particularly dark days, I think about what that pregnancy would have been like.  Wonder what that little blob of cells would have developed into (girl, boy?).  How would our lives be the same and different?  In another world, I sort of see our lives with that baby - in another realm that version of my family exists with equal amounts of joy and sorrow - be it different.

That moment set my life on THIS course.  Sent me to meet a therapist to deal with my depression and anxiety.  Sent me to seek a career that nurtured my soul rather than my wallet.  Sent me to seek epiphany, find acceptance of myself, and feel.  Regretfully, I think it pushed me to build a Fort Knox shell around my heart and perhaps to read The Twilight Series of books.

That experience brought more growth and another childless 18 months.  This life is beautiful and heartbreaking, clear and confusing, light and dark.  Longing for something that didn’t come to fruition doesn’t mean I am ungrateful for what I have.  Just the opposite, having felt the darkest shades of my heart makes the colorful ones so vivid (feeling).