April 15, 2013

April 15, 2013 started out like most of my Mondays did in 2013. At the time, I worked as an outpatient physical therapist at an insanely busy clinic with some of the best humans I have ever known (no, seriously, the BEST humans). On Mondays, I usually worked 12 hours. However, this day was a little special. It was my husband’s 31st birthday and I planned to work only half a day so we could celebrate! Also, I was pregnant with our very first child and we were going to have my 16-week doctor’s appointment that afternoon! We were giddy in a way only first time parents can be.

My husband and I had been married for over 5 years. We did not rush into having children. In fact, we had not even fully decided to have children until 3-4 months prior. We had thoroughly enjoyed our “married without children” life. We traveled. We went to concerts. We went out on weeknights. We took promotions with zero concern about how that would affect our home life. We had fun!! The kind of narcissistic fun that is specific to two financially stable and child-free young adults.

But all of that had changed!! We were ready now to be parents.  We had the house, the established careers and the all-consuming idea in our heads that a little human made up of half him and half myself would be nothing short of bliss! We talked about baby names at lunch and laughed about how our baby looked like a kidney bean in the ultrasound pictures we had from a few weeks back.

At the appointment, I mentioned to my Doctor I had been having some low back pain. It had lasted for a few days, but I honestly had not let it slow me down. Life was good and back pain was just not on my list of things to worry about. After a few more questions from the doctor, I was on my way to the hospital for a “STAT” ultrasound. All overkill and completely unnecessary in my mind. The ultrasound went as ultrasounds go. Baby still looked like a Kidney bean to me…

Then came the words that turned my whole world into a slow moving, foggy nightmare. The kind where you know you should run but you can’t move and you can’t quite remember why you’re running.

“Your baby no longer has a heartbeat…”

I do not really remember what else was said after that. All I could hear was that familiar voice in my head that had come after all the big failures in my life:

“And there you have it. You weren’t meant to be a mom after all. God knew you couldn’t handle it. You’re too self-involved. You’re too driven. You’re not good enough. You’re too broken! TOO broken! Too BROKEN.”

Three or four days went by and I honestly felt nothing. NOTHING. I did what I’ve always done. I just carried on. I smiled when people checked on me because I knew THEY needed to see me smile. I walked the dogs. I did the laundry. I said “thank you” when people told me I was “handling it all so well”. I almost felt safe again.

Like, “ohhh, it’s ok, here I am on solid ground. I KNOW how to be broken and carry on.”

Women know how to play that game better than any, right?

I made plans to return to work on Friday because, why not?? Might as well get back and at least be productive in life. Productivity has a nice way of tricking you into believing you are worthy when you feel worthless. I had heard from almost all of my co-workers. They had called, sent texts, sent cards, food,and flowers. I told ya…the BEST humans.

But as I walked into work that Friday, I realized there was one co-worker I had not heard from. Literally, every single co-worker but one, had reached out. That one co-worker, ironically, happened to be one of my closest friends at the time. I knew him to be a compassionate and caring friend. A man who was unapologetic about his faith. He had prayed for me and with me numerous times over problems half as monumental as the loss of my child.

As I rounded the corner to my desk, I spotted a Dunkin Donuts coffee smack in the middle of it. I knew the coffee was from him, instantly. All of a sudden, I felt myself jolt back to real life. Like I had snapped awake!! The dream was over.

Everything moved at a normal pace again. The light felt instantly brighter. I could move. I could think. I was NOT numb anymore. I was something… but NOT numb. I was mad. No, not just mad. I was LIVID. I was out of my mind, insanely angry to the point where it took everything in my body not to pick that cup of coffee up and slam it into the wall while letting out a primal scream!!

That coffee, in that moment, in my mind, signified exactly what I had been doing. Just carrying on. As if that co-worker was saying:

“Yep. This is what we do. Here is your coffee, welcome back, lets get back to business. Let’s not talk about the hard stuff. Let’s not be emotional. Let’s be strong. Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen. Let’s pretend it wasn’t real.”

But my baby had been real! I had heard his heartbeat! I had dreamed about his future! My little kidney bean was real, damnit, and I did not want to “carry on” one more second! I wanted to be mad. My baby deserved to at least be acknowledged by something more than a freaking Dunkin’ Donuts coffee!!!

For four long hours, I somehow managed to treat patients and avoid looking at that stupid coffee. At noon the clinic cleared out, all the other therapists went to lunch and it was just me, a pile of charts, that stupid coffee and the coffee buyer. I took a big, deep breath and before I could stop myself, I choked out,

“Everyone else checked on me. Everyone else but you”.

“I just didn’t know what to say” he answered.

“Anything. You could have said anything!! ANYTHING would have been better than NOTHING.”

And for the first time in four days the tears let loose. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t control them. I couldn’t just carry on. Because my baby was real! My emotions were real! My loss was real! And my heartbreak was real!

I don’t remember the exact conversation that happened through all those tears. But I know there was an apology.  There was a prayer.  And there was an unsaid truce that we would never say “nothing” to each other again.

It’s been almost 8 years since that day.  My life has so drastically changed since then.  I have two beautiful children. I have a new job.  I have a much healthier relationship with myself and my emotions and my soul.  But I still think about that day a lot.  Some days just change who you are at the most basic, cellular level.  I learned two things on this day, almost eight years ago,that have fundamentally changed the way I approach life and relationships.  

#1

I will never, ever, ever, EVER, be the kind of friend who brings the coffee and avoids the conversation. I will always, always, ALWAYS climb down into the dark space and fumble and mumble my way through saying SOMETHING. Even if its awkward. Even if its hard. Even if it hurts like hell. I will say SOMETHING! And I will teach both of my children, that saying SOMETHING demonstrates far more strength than carrying on ever will!!

#2

Even the very BEST humans are HUMAN. Even God’s BEST warriors on this earth are EARTHLY. That is why he sent us GRACE, in the name of Jesus Christ! He knew we would mess it up. He knew we would bring the coffee when we should have brought the love. He knew we would inevitably bring silence when we should have brought the prayer. He knew. He knows. And so, Jesus Christ came, died, resurrected and lives! So that you and I can have GRACE!! So, who in the world am I, to withhold it? Although extending forgiveness is one of the most difficult things to do, I will teach my children it is a battle worth fighting! For our fellow humans. For ourselves. For our friends.

If I had reciprocated saying nothing with nothing… If I had just held a grudge… I would have missed out on the lessons that day taught me! I would have also missed out on a lifelong friendship that I hold dear. I would have missed out on the future laughs, support, and prayers. Grace, I’m telling you, it’s worth the fight!!

So from here on out, I challenge us all to be better to one another, especially when our journey gets HARD. Especially, when the unplanned detour on our journey gets treacherous.

Pregnancy & Infant loss, as well as any loss, is HARD. Let’s acknowledge each other’s hard. Let’s be willing to say SOMETHING instead of nothing. Let’s give each other some GRACE. And then, and only then, let’s have some freaking Dunkin’ Donuts COFFEE!!

Safe Travels!

Morgan Rae