Saturday passed. In retrospect, I think the anticipation of what I would feel on Junior’s due date was much worse than how I actually felt once the day arrived.
Or maybe it was all of the kind thoughts of comfort sent my way by people who read this blog. I only cried once the whole day. Seriously. And that was when I read the lovely comments you left in response to my letter I wrote to Junior. Thank you – from the bottom of my heart – for leaving them. The kindness of those in this community never fails to inspire me.
Or maybe it was Cowboy, who while he didn’t speak about the significance of the day, knew about it and was extra sweet to me.
Or maybe it was this remedy, which my acupuncturist suggested to take the edge off. Amazing, but the gal who eschews pharmaceutical pain relief and allergy medications does not hesitate to drop some natural remedy down her gullet.
Perhaps it was the combination of the above. Whatever it was, it seemed to work in my favor.
About the letter. Many self help books on dealing with miscarriage recommend developing some sort of personal ceremony to mark the passing of the baby. Western cultures and religions, in particular, have precious little societal outlets for even addressing the subject.
I have read (mostly on these blogs) about some lovely and touching ways that people have honored a miscarried baby. And while I am not a big ceremony person, I felt like Junior deserved something more than a little notation on our calendar.
So I wrote the letter as a form of ceremony. It’s more my style anyway. I actually wrote it a while ago and it just sat waiting in my journal. Then I started this blog and noticed the immediate therapeutic effects. As the due date approached, it just seemed natural to put my letter to Junior out there as a way of being open and honest and creating some sort of simple public record of the event, which is so significant in my life at this point.
So that awful, anticipated day has come and gone. It wasn’t so bad. I wonder if the sadness and longing attached to it will fade from my memory. Will I always remember the day and wonder what might have been?