04 July 2008

Close but no cigars

Somewhere in recent history, my sweetie and I almost made an all-new being. But it feels like that process ended on about Wednesday morning, even though we don't know for sure yet. The grim little kicker is that I still need surgery, regardless of what tomorrow's tests reveal.

I am sad to feel so hopeless about it, too. Yet my experience learning that I was pregnant was so classically obtuse (in the movies the scene always looks something like this: WOMAN: "My period was three weeks late, but I'm sure I wasn't pregnant, because I've never been pregnant in my life." [CUT to WOMAN's face.] WOMAN: "Oh my gosh, I'm pregnant!?" [WOMAN cries.]) that I feel I should reserve some more room for doubt, some more hope for the best, and it is arguable whether pregnancy would indeed be the best outcome at this "certain age" I have now reached. I might get gestational diabetes or postpartum depression if I were to carry a baby to term; I can't help feeling some relief at not being pregnant. But I sure am sore.

But if I were, if I even thought I were (which is the saddest part to me -- I really don't feel it), I would do anything I could to keep that little spark of life going. I would try to give my daughter every chance to have that little sibling she dreams of, that unique blend of me and her father and her- or himself.

1 comment:

Charlotte said...

Rise, I feel for you. Know that you are in my thoughts, hoping for the best, hoping you can find the strength to carry you through this. I know this is just words on a screen from a person you may never meet in person (hope that is not the case), but there is genuine affection that even transcends our mutual love of the best band on EARTH. Your encouragement of me and my lame attempts to express myself through writing have meant so much to me, you'll probably never know how much.