Wishing you courage

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying 'I will try again tomorrow'."
- Mary Anne Radmacher

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

This day one year ago

On August 13, 2007 I received notice, via home pregnancy test, that my baby existed. A year ago today was the last day that I wasn't mentally consumed with thoughts, worries, plans, or a sorrow beyond imagination, with that tiny being. I wonder what I used to think about. A year ago I never would have conceived I would be here - struggling to reclaim a sense of worth and success, mourning a lost baby and a waning marriage - after having joined the ranks of those with horror stories for pregnancy outcomes (you know, the people of statistics since no one actually knows someone whose baby actually died).

What would I tell my self of a year ago who had no clue that a nightmare was tip toeing up right behind her? It would be "My Dear Girl, you have mere hours of blind bliss left, enjoy these moments of being young and carefree". A year ago I would have argued about that carefree bit since my cares started rather early in life; who knew those were relatively lighthearted days.

What I would give for thoughts from my self a year from now. Next August 12 will I be remarking on how much beauty and joy has entered my life or will it be another shell shocked statement of "didn't see that coming"?

My current, this-very-moment self wishes to have told my self of this morning to pack some mascara since the earlier application was destined to be cried off in the bathroom at work. Awesome. Lately I've been trying to perk up since ... well you know ... the whole deadbaby thing ... so today I have on a perky outfit including hoop earrings, cute messy hair, and my new patent red Dansko's! And I started the day with the intention of doing something nice with a 8:45 appointment to donate blood. 45 minutes later I'm sent away with a finding of low hematocrit, two pricked fingers, and a crappy sticker saying how I tried to give blood today. That failure at doing something kind has me really bummed out for some reason.


Sara said...

I didn't think the anniversary of the positive test would be as hard as it was for me. It is the weirdest thing - how that person from a year ago seems like a separate being.

Also, cute shoes! :D

debbie said...

I think the bright side of the blood not working out is that you are destined to do something nicer for yourself today that DOES NOT INVOLVE any pricking :). Dinner, red wine, something fun. If I were there and Sara lived there too, I am sure we would both take you out for dinner. In a heartbeat.

debbie said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sara said...

AnnaMarie, I got your latest post in my Google Reader, too. I'm sorry if you didn't want it out there, but I didn't realize it was gone until I tried to click on it and leave a comment...

I can't remember exactly how many months out you are, but at about 9 months I hit a really, really low period where I felt like I just didn't know what to do anymore. It's true sometimes that no matter if you're doing everything right, this thing is just HARD. I hate it as much as you do.

I wish Debbie and I could be there with you during this especially rough period. Please lean on us as much as you want/need.

debbie said...

Maybe you deleted your last post, but it showed up on my google reader. I feel like I should tell you to call me, but it sounds like all of your IRL friends are onto that. If you can't deal with them right now, call me. [okay I deleted that lest some crazy pro-you know whater calls me]. email me at justmedebbie@comcast.net i'm happy to share my digits--if you want them.

When R and I were in the depths of our sadness, we read Eckhart Tolle's newest book out loud to each other. I take his writing with a grain of salt, but it helped us stay in the moment. It helped to lessen our pain. We only got about half-way through the book before we decided that we didn't want to listen to him anymore, but it really did help us through some very dark days, letting us know we had to let go of trying to change it.
Maybe you can try that?