If anything, the journey over the past twelve weeks has provided me clarity. It seemed a whirlwind decision that Ken and I made when we conceived Baby Mic. The impact on our lives seemed disproportionately larger than we felt it would when we made the decision. I think we both felt in over our heads once I was pregnant, and both felt we had a moment to step back and rethink our decision once I was not.
That made sense at the time, but now I am resentful of that as well. I resent that there was ever any relief at all – that there was ever any question of whether or not a baby was a great idea. I resent Ken’s ambivalence about having another baby when I want another baby so badly. We haven’t even had the discussion, and I’m angry at the possibility that this is the end of our journey. It can’t end this way.
This voice in my brain that began as background noise and has now grown to the only thing I hear. It drowns out anything else. Everything that’s said to me – every idea and every plan is framed by wanting a baby. Do you want fries with that? Yes – and a baby. Did you know I lost mine? What are we doing the weekend of September 18? I don’t know and I don’t care. What about the baby? WHAT ABOUT THE BABY? To those around me, I’m sure I appear distracted and scattered. Really, I just can’t hear them.
I am a precious only daughter, an anxious mother of three earth angels, and two little babies lost before we had a chance to know them, but not before we had a chance to love them. I'm a mediocre wife, and an opinionated ambassador of human rights. I have a lot to say and some of it may interest you.
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