A new baby

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My coach had her baby yesterday. Her daughter was born yesterday afternoon, and she is a "beautiful, healthy baby girl, and mother and daughter are doing fine!" End quote. I listened to people at work today cooing about it, and imagined my coach in her hospital room, with the bassinet in her room with her, the baby inside, or in her arms...and remembered my own hospital stay. Lying in the bed with meds in me to force the contractions, the pain as I tried to force my dead baby from my body. Nurses coming and going, Allen walking around the room, as I sobbed in my bed for all that I had lost. I wondered today what it would have been like to have gotten to the 9th month. Been swollen and exhausted by the weight I carried of my unborn child, to have felt her moving inside me...and I wanted to scream. To cry yes, but more to just express my deep abiding rage at the cruelty of the universe for robbing me of a moment like my coach had today. Like all the moments she'll have every day for the rest of her life. She is a mom, I am not. I'm just one of those sad women you try not to think about who had a miscarriage. Such a little word, miscarriage, like a mistake, that should be just be filed away as lessons learned in life and moved on from." Oh, you had a miscarriage? I'm so sorry that's awful. Hey did you see that new show that started last night?"

People tell you you can't obsess over things, you have to let it go and find a way to move on. That's so much bullshit. I had a life inside me, it was my child and she died and now she's gone, and that isn't something I can forget or let go of. I know it's not healthy to dwell but I still ache and I'm still angry. I wonder and I mourn and I don't know that I want to stop. Isabella....would you have had curls of black with big blue eyes? or long straight white blonde hair with soft brown eyes like your fathers? Been pale as snow like me, or olive skinned like him? You would have been a reader I'm sure. Like both of us, you would have enjoyed books. I will never have a child. That was my chance, and it failed. I failed. I am a failure, as a procreator.

I an happy for my coach. I really am. I am just also sad for me, and I don't know how not to be.

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