2007
2007 begins in the dark. I am still grieving the loss of our daughter, her due date having just passed in December of 2006. I have begun the dirty work of sorting through what it means to go on without a child instead of focusing on the loss of a pregnancy. I spend a lot of time going to baby showers and celebrating pregnancy announcements. Smiling, nodding, wondering why I am just still so incredibly sad all the time.
Our pastors family cat has kittens. We meet a little black one at their Super Bowl party, and suddenly we have two cats.
Willis and I are also working on a musical at our church - the follow up to our first production with the church the previous year. All of the meetings we had to prepare for this show took place while I was in some kind of delirium, or they must have, because somehow I suggest a show easily twice as large and complicated as the first show. I guess because my friends are so eager to see me smile they support me in this nonsense. In December we held the auditions and they were clouded by the fury of a family whose son had auditioned for the production and did not end up with the part he wanted. Fortunately by the new year the chaos of that had died down, but we were still left with a show just beyond our capabilities that was already in motion.
Every month we write a check to the apartment complex for the expensive apartment that we’d moved to when I’d been pregnant. Our lease is going to be up at the end of April, and we decide that we simply can’t continue to sink this much money in something we don’t own. We start looking at houses - the idea of homeownership both completely insane and deliciously attainable for the first time. We see a couple places before seeing the townhouse we would eventually buy - nowhere is “love at first site” but we visit many places where we can see building a family.
In April, good friends of ours announce that they are pregnant. It is fantastic news, but it sends me straight over the edge. I write a LJ entry about how depressed I have become because I can’t hide it anymore and I want people to tell me that I’m not crazy. No one tells me I’m not crazy, several people suggest I get some help. We close on the house April 16th, the same day as the massacre at Virginia Tech. We don’t have a TV or internet connection so we hear about the horrors via uninformed people trying to make sense of what they’ve heard. When we finally do hear the news its even worse than we thought.
Later that month My Great-Aunt Ruth dies. She was a wonderful woman, full of strength and grace. She loved the Lord and I am at peace with her passing. I sing at her funeral and do just fine until my Uncle mentions the music of her voice. Then I cry. My Grandmother gives us money for playing/singing at the service and we use that money to place a non-refundable deposit on a mission trip that we end up not being able to attend because of my job.
In May the church show goes up and by the Grace of God it is wonderful. The night after the successful opening of the show I sleep through the night for the first time in about 10 months. I sleep all weekend actually, and wake up on Monday with a new mission. Its time to call the doctors, its time to fix me, its time to have a baby.
I go and see a new doctor - someone who supposedly specializes in the kind of surgery that I need. I go for an MRI and we find out that my problems are more pronounced than we had feared. She suggests I see someone else - a fertility doctor. She tells me that only a reproductive endocrinologist has the right specialty for the surgery, so even though I find that option humbling and scary, I call and make an appointment that afternoon. He turns out to be a lovely man who schedules me for surgery at our first appointment based on the information from the MRI.
In June I realize that a dear friend of mine is serving his second tour of duty in Iraq. I found out that he was in the Army while he was serving his first tour and he and I reconnect in that period of time by talking online. We talked about trying to get together while he was in the states but because I am lost in pregnancy land I totally miss his time at home. I am filled with dread about his being there and start logging into IM in the hopes of seeing his name - I never do, of course, because this mission would be different. I pray every day and refresh the website that his family keeps - waiting for word.
On the 4th of July Mom, Willis and I take up my Granddad on his offer to watch the fireworks from the roof-top tennis courts of his community. We see some really spectacular fireworks and I take a ton of pictures - so many that I have to actively remind myself to put down the camera and just LOOK at the spectacle. It is one of the few truly happy memories of the year, and I am so glad we stopped making our typical excuses and just went and watched the sky.
On August 13th a friend of mine pops up on IM and asks if she can call me.
My friend was killed in Iraq. I was surprised by the news but I shouldn't have been. I knew. I just knew. I was surprised by how ferocious my grief was, how raw and unyielding the pain of the loss. I spend weeks looking at nature and listening to music and watching children and thinking about all the wonders of life that were denied to him - to his widow. I cry and cry and try desperately to write something. I can't.
In October, I have a 2 hour surgery to remove a 7cm septum from my uterus. I am derailed a bit by the pain of the recovery but I am encouraged nonetheless. I pronounce myself cured and decide that after the follow up appointment I will still have time to get pregnant before the end of the year.
Eventually I have my post op appointment and find out that it will actually be January before we will be able to try for a baby - there is another test procedure to be done. I take the news poorly even though it isn't specifically bad.
The holiday season is crazy stressful as the health of my maternal Grandparents continues to decline. For Thanksgiving in 2006, Willis and I drive 3 hours back and forth from Sterling to Lansdowne and back again so that we can all be together and the meal is tense and uncomfortable because my Grandmom is in pain and would rather be at home. I tell my Mom that I don’t know how many more holidays we can do like that, but we do it again for Christmas a month later.
I tell my Mom that she can’t go on acting like every holiday is their last because it is unfair to burden herself with those kinds of expectations. There was no way to know that Christmas would turn out to be our last together, but I still feel guilty. By now, Christmas of 2007, Grandmom is in a nursing home since she can no longer walk. She is developing a phobia of the outside world, of even the halls outside her room, and holidays together are not an option. On Saturdays we all cram into her room - Mom, me, and Granddad and his walker - and try to keep her interested in our visit at least until her lunch comes. Christmas was just another day for her, despite our best efforts.
Our pastors family cat has kittens. We meet a little black one at their Super Bowl party, and suddenly we have two cats.
Willis and I are also working on a musical at our church - the follow up to our first production with the church the previous year. All of the meetings we had to prepare for this show took place while I was in some kind of delirium, or they must have, because somehow I suggest a show easily twice as large and complicated as the first show. I guess because my friends are so eager to see me smile they support me in this nonsense. In December we held the auditions and they were clouded by the fury of a family whose son had auditioned for the production and did not end up with the part he wanted. Fortunately by the new year the chaos of that had died down, but we were still left with a show just beyond our capabilities that was already in motion.
Every month we write a check to the apartment complex for the expensive apartment that we’d moved to when I’d been pregnant. Our lease is going to be up at the end of April, and we decide that we simply can’t continue to sink this much money in something we don’t own. We start looking at houses - the idea of homeownership both completely insane and deliciously attainable for the first time. We see a couple places before seeing the townhouse we would eventually buy - nowhere is “love at first site” but we visit many places where we can see building a family.
In April, good friends of ours announce that they are pregnant. It is fantastic news, but it sends me straight over the edge. I write a LJ entry about how depressed I have become because I can’t hide it anymore and I want people to tell me that I’m not crazy. No one tells me I’m not crazy, several people suggest I get some help. We close on the house April 16th, the same day as the massacre at Virginia Tech. We don’t have a TV or internet connection so we hear about the horrors via uninformed people trying to make sense of what they’ve heard. When we finally do hear the news its even worse than we thought.
Later that month My Great-Aunt Ruth dies. She was a wonderful woman, full of strength and grace. She loved the Lord and I am at peace with her passing. I sing at her funeral and do just fine until my Uncle mentions the music of her voice. Then I cry. My Grandmother gives us money for playing/singing at the service and we use that money to place a non-refundable deposit on a mission trip that we end up not being able to attend because of my job.
In May the church show goes up and by the Grace of God it is wonderful. The night after the successful opening of the show I sleep through the night for the first time in about 10 months. I sleep all weekend actually, and wake up on Monday with a new mission. Its time to call the doctors, its time to fix me, its time to have a baby.
I go and see a new doctor - someone who supposedly specializes in the kind of surgery that I need. I go for an MRI and we find out that my problems are more pronounced than we had feared. She suggests I see someone else - a fertility doctor. She tells me that only a reproductive endocrinologist has the right specialty for the surgery, so even though I find that option humbling and scary, I call and make an appointment that afternoon. He turns out to be a lovely man who schedules me for surgery at our first appointment based on the information from the MRI.
In June I realize that a dear friend of mine is serving his second tour of duty in Iraq. I found out that he was in the Army while he was serving his first tour and he and I reconnect in that period of time by talking online. We talked about trying to get together while he was in the states but because I am lost in pregnancy land I totally miss his time at home. I am filled with dread about his being there and start logging into IM in the hopes of seeing his name - I never do, of course, because this mission would be different. I pray every day and refresh the website that his family keeps - waiting for word.
On the 4th of July Mom, Willis and I take up my Granddad on his offer to watch the fireworks from the roof-top tennis courts of his community. We see some really spectacular fireworks and I take a ton of pictures - so many that I have to actively remind myself to put down the camera and just LOOK at the spectacle. It is one of the few truly happy memories of the year, and I am so glad we stopped making our typical excuses and just went and watched the sky.
On August 13th a friend of mine pops up on IM and asks if she can call me.
My friend was killed in Iraq. I was surprised by the news but I shouldn't have been. I knew. I just knew. I was surprised by how ferocious my grief was, how raw and unyielding the pain of the loss. I spend weeks looking at nature and listening to music and watching children and thinking about all the wonders of life that were denied to him - to his widow. I cry and cry and try desperately to write something. I can't.
In October, I have a 2 hour surgery to remove a 7cm septum from my uterus. I am derailed a bit by the pain of the recovery but I am encouraged nonetheless. I pronounce myself cured and decide that after the follow up appointment I will still have time to get pregnant before the end of the year.
Eventually I have my post op appointment and find out that it will actually be January before we will be able to try for a baby - there is another test procedure to be done. I take the news poorly even though it isn't specifically bad.
The holiday season is crazy stressful as the health of my maternal Grandparents continues to decline. For Thanksgiving in 2006, Willis and I drive 3 hours back and forth from Sterling to Lansdowne and back again so that we can all be together and the meal is tense and uncomfortable because my Grandmom is in pain and would rather be at home. I tell my Mom that I don’t know how many more holidays we can do like that, but we do it again for Christmas a month later.
I tell my Mom that she can’t go on acting like every holiday is their last because it is unfair to burden herself with those kinds of expectations. There was no way to know that Christmas would turn out to be our last together, but I still feel guilty. By now, Christmas of 2007, Grandmom is in a nursing home since she can no longer walk. She is developing a phobia of the outside world, of even the halls outside her room, and holidays together are not an option. On Saturdays we all cram into her room - Mom, me, and Granddad and his walker - and try to keep her interested in our visit at least until her lunch comes. Christmas was just another day for her, despite our best efforts.