When does the sadness end?

April 27, 2009

Two weeks to the day of the miscarriage and the pain remains so close to the surface. Certainly I’ve refined the mask I wear when I’m out. I can smile and small talk like the best of them. Why, this weekend, I spent 48 hours with friends who had no idea, and I cried only twice.

Reminders lurk in every corner. In every baby I see. In every swollen belly. Today I listened as Jack congratulated a friend who just had a baby. I heard a conversation about happy grandparents and diaper changing and the cries of the new one keeping up her weary parents. I cleaned out a bathroom cabinet and turned over the positive pregnancy test. Each instance is a punch to my gut. Each moment a reminder of what should have been, and what is not.

I don’t want to be sad. I want to move on. I want to let it go. I want to stop counting the weeks and remembering this could have been a second trimester. But dammit. I can’t move on. I am stuck in what feels like an emotional groundhog day. I wake up each day hoping the snow has cleared and the radio is playing a different song, yet right now its gray clouds, followed by more of the same.

I consider taking a happy pill, but that won’t change my reality. I may not eat organic food as much as I should, but I’m too organic to fake my own joy. I try to embrace my emotions for they are my authentic self, yet I just wish that my self would just fucking move on already.


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