Once upon a time...

Last night, I was going through my son's closet and suddenly became overwhelmed with emotion. You see, about a year and half ago I had a miscarriage. It is probably one of the most horrible experiences of my life. It felt like I had locked up my dreams in a glass globe and someone just picked it up and smashed it! I had been married for 3 months when we found out. Words will never express our excitement. We started dreaming, planning...

I did everything and more. Folic acid, hospital visits, veggie shakes, I even joined a pre-natal class! I'd be walking down the street, and my mind will be so far away. I constantly seemed to be dreaming. Dreaming of the miracle growing inside me. Of how much love we would shower on this child. There was no need to think of names, we already had name options. We started dreaming of what part of Toronto we wanted to move to. We lived in this really tiny apartment and there was no way we could bring a third person in.

Then, I went for my first scan and it all went downhill from there. I cannot write down everything I felt. To do so feels to me like giving up the only keepsake I have from that dream. My head felt heavy. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt so much inside but most of all, I felt numb. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. I could not cry. If a truck hit me at that moment, I probably wouldn't have felt it. I turned to my husband and I wanted to kick him so hard. He wasn't crying. How could he not be crying?  The whole ride home, we sat in silence. He held my hand.

I crawled into my bed and that was when I cried. As I cried, I kept asking myself what I did or didn't do.  I had recently written a story about a couple who lost their baby. Immediately, I cursed at myself for writing that. I hated myself for always writing morbid stories. If only that story had been a happy one, maybe my child wouldn't have left in anger. Or maybe it was because I attended a funeral. Why did I look at death when I had life growing in me? So many crazy thoughts crossed my mind. I blamed myself over and over again. Then people started calling me. That was another horrible experience. People think I am strong. And sometimes, I feel like I have to not disappoint them. So I went through the motions. Pretending like all was well. Pretending like I had accepted it all. And they believed me. Every single one of them.

My husband slowly started to express his own emotions. The one line he said that stuck with me was, "all of a sudden, everywhere I turn, I see babies. I think my greatest emotion is disappointment." It was when I knew that he also suffered inside that I forgave him. I don't think I can say we grieved together. But we stood together through each others grief. I bled for 6 weeks. Every time I looked at my blood, my heart broke all over again.

My son, Kandu, is a beautiful boy and such a delight. I still look at him and wonder if this is all a dream. I cannot imagine my life without him. However, I will never forget the one that got away.