We’re having a meeting in Downtown Seattle today, so I decided to commute. I haven’t commuted in two years! I loaded my Orca Card and got to it! Too bad, I thought I had more time before my mile trek to the train station. (Glad I went back home for my jacket!)
Anyway, as I was walking, my mind began to wander, as blank minds do… Gosh, I hope I make it on time for the train! What’s my pace? If not, I’ll just take the bus, no big deal. Remember that time I rode my bicycle? I should do this on days I don’t have to visit families – yeah, I’ll do this on days I don’t visit families. Why did I wear these boots? I should have worn better shoes. Hey! What’s that plant? I should take a picture, there’s no time to take a picture.
I see two females approaching, as they get closer and pass, they look young, teenagers. Shouldn’t they be in school? I should really take a picture of these plants, there’s no time. I see a blanket in the brush. My goodness, who lives there? I hope it isn’t those girls. It’s so cold outside, all they have is that cardboard box, and a thin blanket? At least they have a blanket. At least!? Did I really just think that?!
I’m reminded of Brene Browne’s Ted Talk on “Empathy.” When we say “at least” we lack empathy. I remembered the part: “At least you know you can get pregnant.” My mind floated back to the two miscarriages. I should never have been able to get pregnant. Whether they were blessings or not, to lose them – the pain. To have no support through that process. To be left. Teardrops in my eyes at that memory, how had I forgtten? I thought about others I knew, close to me that lost babies – their pain, mine. Years later, I still feel it. These darn tears. I ask God, “Why now? Why am I feeling this now? Why is it hurting like this?” Somewhere the answer comes, Trust the process. I am working compassion in you.
I wipe my eyes, it’ll be alright. I can’t focus on the negative, who cares that he left me as I was recovering from a miscarriage – not once but twice. Sure, I forgive him, I’m just dealing with the pain. Of losing him, or those babies? When in those rare occasions, the miscarriages come out, I brush them aside, Oh no, don’t be sorry! It was for the best. At least I’m not tied to him. There it is again, at least. At least. Never dealing with the pain. I can’t even acknowledge it for myself. But now, I must. I must.
He must have felt pain too. To react the way he did. But why did he punch me in the stomach? “You need to stop doing pt!” He would never listen that I, and women can continue their activities that they did prior to pregnancy, and be safe. I ran and exercised with all three of my babies before. “I don’t care, those were Chris’s kids, this is mine.” That hurt. I thought you loved my kids. “You know what I mean.” Then stress of cheating, fighting, abuse. Who can carry a child in that? I felt guilty for losing them, like I willed them die. He felt guilty. We couldn’t talk about it. I felt guilty for never understanding the pain others, especially those close to me, felt when they lose a baby. It was so easy for me to get pregnant, and carry a baby that I had a tubal ligation at 22. How could I get pregnant again?! Twice at that?! To bring our marriage closer together – or obliterate it completely.
Something I must remind myself, in the pain is the lesson. I’m home now, still feeling overcome by the pain of losing those babies, and one other. I will cry, just for a little while, on this Good Friday, then I will release it. I will allow myself to feel the pain as it arises. I know that moving ahead, I will have compassion for others who have lost, or are unable to have babies of their own.
I’m glad I commuted today. I still didn’t get a picture of that plant! It looks like a cabbage patch plant! You know from the Cabbage Patch Babies!! (That just occurred to me.) I’ll have take a picture soon and update this post!
On the Outside Looking In 