i told
ray i have ennui. he said that only
means boredom in french. ‘no,’ i said,
‘i have listlessness, with sadness and no interest in anything. what word means that?’ he said there wasn’t one.
i’m
sad.
and my
life isn’t set up for that. this has
been an incredible year. i’m about to
celebrate 7 years of marriage, am loving my class this year, have been healthy,
have been able to be innovative in teaching, am learning further contentment in
‘staying put’ in this beautiful tropical country, have been privileged with
trips to cambodia and egypt and feel more alive, more aware, more grateful,
more love than ever. and then i had a
miscarriage.
that
stopped me in my tracks.
first of
all, doctors told us that i couldn’t get pregnant. so there was that shock. there were so many things that overwhelmed me
that i just never thought i’d ever have to deal with. there was so much advice given to me that i
only half listened to, knowing i wouldn’t ever use it. and then came 2 tests that reported The Impossible. and then came complications that landed me in
the emergency room late on a monday night that produced an ultra-sound of a
perfect looking embryo and a doctor telling us in halting english that there
was a 50% chance of survival for the baby, but if i could get through the next
2 weeks, everything would be just fine.
and even though i was shocked and confused and worried and scared, i
still dared to hope. because i’m
terrible at lowering my expectations.
but i
came out on the wrong side of the 50. by
the end of the week, i was back in the emergency room, alone with another
ultrasound screen, looking at a failed embryo and a thai doctor who didn’t know
what to do with a foreign woman with emotions.
and i was wheeled out of the room (because i looked weak? because all miscarrying women need wheelchairs? because?) and the first person i saw was ray
and i couldn’t say anything. i just looked
away. and i was wheeled out to the
middle of the hospital to wait for another doctor to interpret the ultrasound
and tell us in more ways about the loss.
and i failed at cultural
sensitivity; i held my husband’s hand and couldn’t stop the tears. and all the pregnant women around me looked
away, embarrassed, because apparently even crazy hormones don’t make thai women
emotional.
i am
left feeling so empty. i didn’t even
know i wanted to be filled up with that!
i had made my peace with it all.
we planned to adopt…someday. and i
had more energy and focus and love for my students every day. i didn’t mourn The Impossible; i did a good
job of looking at what i had and saying ‘thank you.’ and then everything changed with a positive
result on a test and i reconsidered and reevaluated and recalibrated everything
and was filled. and then i was
emptied.
after
last year, i learned about hope in a new way.
i learned that The Impossible can come out of other Impossibles and to
hold out for hope. i don’t look forward
in fear or despair. i know—i
believe—beauty comes from ashes.
but
right now i’m still sad.
