In another reality, on a different time line, in a parallel universe, in my dreams...this would be the day we would be welcoming our little baby boy into the world. We would be in the hospital counting his little toes, and fingers, running our fingers over his soft skin, kissing his face, smelling that sweet spot on the top of his head. I'd be gazing into his eyes, wondering what color they would end up. The Brain and I would be holding each other, crying happy tears, feeling complete, whole. We would have a beautiful nursery, decorated in a nature theme, with a tree on the wall I made from last year's wallpaper catalogues, a birdhouse light, a mobile with birds and a nursing chair where I'd sit for hours softly singing songs to my son. All the boxes of junk in that room would have been a distant memory sitting for sale at the local Salvation Army. The door would be open instead of closed shut as if to block out the reminder of an unfulfilled dream. We'd be planning a bris at my parent's house. There would be four beaming grandparents, well, maybe just three beaming, and one making semi inappropriate and borderline homophobic comments. The rainbow blanket the Brain had finished crocheting would be folded over the crib, waiting to swaddle our baby instead of laying in a pile on the floor by the bed, partially completed, and half forgotten. This is the day our dream would have come true.
Instead it's just another day, another reminder of what I don't have, of what I've been through, about how my body has failed me. It's a day of regret, or what ifs. What if I had refused to push the gurney's with the patients in them? What if I had not allowed myself to get mad and stressed at work? What if I had continued my medications against the doctor's suggestion and seen if the pregnancy could have been viable anyway?What if I worked days instead of nights? What if I never touched alcohol? What if I didn't have cats? What if I was a better Jew, had a blind faith in God, prayed daily? What if I were a better person? What if I hadn't done drugs when I was younger?
But....I'm going to try and stay positive. Remember what I do have and not just what I have lost. It will be my personal Thanksgiving Day. I'm thankful for a supportive, loving wife who once wrote me a list of 50 reasons why she loves me because I was having a bad day. I'm glad that my health (other than my reproductive health) is good. I'm grateful that I have a job that although drives me crazy and some days I hate, I also love because I have the chance to help those who really need my help, and because I work with some of the best nurses out there. As I look into the wet blinky eyes of my precious Bessie who want me to throw her greenie toy, I'm reminded of all the love I receive and give to my six furbabies. I'm grateful for my parents who dive me crazy and I don't understand in the least, because at least I have parents who love and support me in their own quirky way.
Conflicted...sad and grateful...