this saturday, august 1st, marks one year since we lost our beanie…my second of three miscarriages to date.  the irony is that the first weekend of august is my favorite weekend of the year here in my city.  for the past five years i’ve looked forward to this weekend and i continue to do so because of some special events that take place each year.

 

and yet, this year i’m also remembering what we were going through this time last year…first the week of waiting to bleed from when we found out through the ultrasound at 6w2d that the pregnancy was not viable until the miscarriage process began.  i remember that week pretty clearly…that’s when i first got into tori and dean.  and the real housewives, although i didn’t see my favorite housewives until this winter (new jersey, of course!).  that’s when i spent almost an entire week in my bed watching tv.  i didn’t want to see anyone and i didn’t really want to go anywhere and i didn’t work for maybe a month or five weeks after we first got the news. (thank you, huz, for carrying the financial load, yet again…)

 

i distinctly remember august first.  the bleeding began and i knew it was only a matter of time before the tissue passed.  i wasn’t prepared for the level of pain i would feel because my first miscarriage was virtually pain-free—-at least, physically pain-free.  i wanted to stay “active” that day to assist my body in passing the tissue and one way i did that was by helping my huz put together our grill out on our deck…until the pain got too severe, that is.  and by the way, i wasn’t really helping…it was more like i was bossing him around, agitating both of us and encouraging him to toss the directions and just put it together any old way.  i’m sure he was more than relieved when i needed to go inside.

 

i remember choosing not to take any pain meds because i wanted to know what was happening in my body.  i wanted to be present and alert and i felt strongly that it might be the closest i’d ever get to experiencing the natural birth i’d been wanting.

 

i remember my huz shutting down and getting rather short tempered once he came inside.  i told him to snap out of it and go get me some ice cream—a lot of ice cream—please.  he brought back a big serving of my favorite flavor.

 

i remember feeling sad, lonely and angry when he went to bed while i couldn’t sleep.  i stayed in the living room and watched tv…wrote an email…and breathed through the pain.  i remember the pain reaching all the way down to the tops of my feet…throbbing, aching pain.

 

i remember getting up to use the bathroom around 6:30a (roughly 12 hours from the first sight of blood)…i passed the first large-ish piece of tissue and felt immense relief, physically and emotionally.

 

the waiting was over.  i really did miscarry.  it wasn’t some freak ultrasound tech mistake.  i could stop torturing myself with irrational hopes and move on to torturing myself with what-if’s.

 

i remember getting some sleep after that…but not much.  i never sleep well during seasons of grief…it seems the first comfort to leave me.  i remember that for some reason my huz was gone that day…i can’t remember why, but i remember being simulataneously relieved and angry that he was gone…grief is so complex.

 

i remember attempting to drive to class that morning (i was finishing my master’s and it was to be my last day of class, an intensive).  i stopped in a mall parking lot to call the ta on my way, bawling and letting her know i didn’t think i could do it.  she was very gracious as she herself is fertility challenged.   i remember my dear friend coming over and bringing my favorite donuts with him.  i remember going to the annual festivities the next day, the events that i look forward to each year.  and i’m glad i did.

 

so many memories and yet there are countless ones that are lost to us, lost right along with our little beanie…memories we will never know.  and yet so much remains.

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