I looked at the calendar today and my throat closed. If I don’t write something, save something, say something – this month will disappear. I suppose that one day I will look back on this time with fondness, and I want to remind that girl looking through rose-tinted glasses of time that this month sucked. It was the longest month of my life, and the month where I felt like I was wearing my heart on the outside.
There were amazing highlights, to be sure. I had a baby shower. That sentence blows my mind, cause like . . . I’m not pregnant . . . but people came and bought me presents and my babymama was there and it was so surreal, all of it, that at one point I went and hid in my mothers room. I was going to text the only other real life person I know who is infertile, who was a brave fucking solider and was at that moment downstairs at my baby shower being lovely despite the heartache I know she had – and realized that I didn’t have her new number. Then I made the terrible mistake of picking up my grandmothers old bottle of Chanel No. 5 that my mom keeps, and I smelled and it rocked me back onto the bed. Which, by the way, my parents bed is in my other grandmothers old room. I just sat there, longing for them both – they would NOT HAVE BELIEVED HOW THIS IS GOING DOWN! They would hug me, one roughly like you want to be hugged when you really hurt, and one softly like you want to be hugged when you need love, and they were missing it and I was missing them, and there were thirty-five people down in the backyard waiting for me to open a mound of presents and I just knew then that the exact moment I was having was the moment that would best define July 2010. I was happy and heartbroken and anxious and grateful and reflective and terrified.
I am all of those things, all of the time. Not happy one minute and terrified the next – I am all of those things AT THE SAME TIME. I am also experiencing a wicked case of nesting, which I am grateful for (I didn’t know if I would, since I am not the actual pregnant one) but which also frightens me. I cleaned the inside of my washing machine with a toothbrush, people. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the reality of July 2010.
What has sustained us this month has been anything that doesn’t require one extra brain cell, which we can’t afford to use because that is what is what is reminding us to breath in and out. We can’t even muster up the attention span to watch a romantic comedy, it’s straight-up reality television only. We have been eating a lot of easy, comfort food. We talk about her a lot. We do a pretty good job of working through the freak-out moments. We get in bed every night at 9:00, and I lie with her blankets and he stares at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, his elbows poking out, and we wonder about her. I’ve only said it once, but that is all it needed to be said: if it doesn’t work now, it’s too late. It’s gone too far, it’s catastrophic. He says: you have to keep the faith. How many times has he said that? I need it each time.
It may seem melodramatic, this version of July 2010. Maybe it is, this is the most vulnerable I have ever been. Really though, I don’t think so.
People ask me what it is like. I have no good answer. It is everything, all at once.