“Please shatter my heart and create a new room to hold limitless love.”
I know I said in earlier posts that I’m not a religious person, but there is one deity out there that resonates with me: Akhilandeshvari.
Years ago, when I dragged my soon-to-be-ex-husband to marital counseling, I remember sitting in the counselor’s office shredding a wet, snotty tissue in my hands and my eyes wide open trying to hold back the tears that I knew were inevitable. I told her that I was incapable of love, that there was something wrong with me – that I was broken.
She told R. the next time that she met with him that this was the only time in her career that she cried. I don’t know if I truly believe that, but I do know that I had never believed anything as strongly as that until then.
I am broken and I will continue to break in different ways for the rest of my life. December 26th shattered me. I thought I could never recover from that event. After all, a broken plate that is glued back together again is worthless, right?
I am not a plate.
I am “never not broken”. I will always be evolving and changing, hopefully becoming a better person. I can make the choice where to go from here. Before, I was a terrified infertile woman who terminated her much wanted pregnancy. But I am choosing to put myself back together as a much stronger person than I was before. I choose to let light shine through these cracks and create a unique work of art.
My future, my family, my daughter – was shattered. All of my plans cracked and burst into a gazillion million bagillion pieces December 26th, 2012. It was over. My life was over. I had no reason to breathe or stop crying. I threw up for two days. I refused to shower out of fear of touching my freshly developing bump. I would never be the same person that I was on December 25th.
And that’s true – I’m not that same person. I feel different, as if I’m heavier. But I know compassion know in a way that others only discuss theoretically. I am a chapter in a textbook that philosophy students study. I did the most unselfish act in the world that I could possibly think of. If I could overcome terminating my own desperately wanted child, I can get through anything.
And that’s how I choose to redefine myself. I’m not completely done yet. There are days when my cracks don’t shine as brightly as I’d like them to. Sometimes, fractures happen. But that’s ok. Because I trust myself to transform into something better.
Right now, at this very moment, the night before Mother’s Day, I feel strong and powerful. I am supposed to take a pregnancy test on the 17th, and I had been fearful of that. Could I handle another BFN? Or what if it was positive, and I had to face twenty weeks of uncertainty and fear until the anatomy scan?
The next few weeks are full of triggers, and I didn’t trust myself completely until just now.
I can do Mother’s Day. I can do a pregnancy test next Friday. I can do June 5th. I can even do a child-free future.
I am stronger than I was on December 25th.
Strong has never been an adjective that I used to describe myself. Quirky? Yep. Eccentric? Yep. Creative? Sometimes. Brilliant? Oh, stop. You’re making me blush. But strong?
In a weird sort of way, I’m looking forward to those trigger dates – just so it will be something else that I will be able to have overcome and beaten.
In college, I was an avid D&D player. Did I say avid? I meant rabid. My character was the epitome of chaos, she was always changing, always unpredictable. She was a whirling dervish of confusion and disorder.
I’ve pretended to like change, but the fact is, I don’t change that much. I’m really pretty predictable. At least, I used to be. I don’t know what I am anymore. I’m not sure what next year has is store for me, and I’m ok with that. I’m not scared about moving to another country. I’ve always dreamed about living in another country. I’m ok with changing schools – I’ve had enough experience to know that I’m not working in Nirvana, and that if I were to change schools, I really don’t think I’d be working any harder than I currently am.
I have always taken pride in the fact that I know myself, but I don’t think I can say that anymore. I don’t know the person I am turning into. But I think I’m going to enjoy getting to know her.