I had started my new job and Craig was less than 24 hours away from starting his.
Sitting in a diner with an old friend and co worker, her husband, and Craig.
She says to me, “Wow, so many new changes. Moving, new house, new jobs. Next thing you know, you’ll be pregnant!”
With a small smile and sideways glance to my husband, I laugh and say, “Yeah, wouldn’t that be something!?”
Craig and I had a secret. I was pregnant.
And then I wasn’t anymore. Three trips to the clinic, more ultrasounds than I can count, ultimately confirmed that, yes, I was pregnant. But, I wasn’t anymore.
And then came the heartbreak. Then came the days of denial. Of anger. Of tears.
Those days have been running parallel to the days I second guess my career change; to the days I’ve made a drive to Madison and not remembered how it was that I actually got there. Days when I sit in a room of people and feel utterly alone.
Parallel to the days that I feel defeated. Exhausted. Confused.
The love and kindness of most has helped distract me from the ugliness of the past weeks. And while there isn’t much they can do to keep me from feeling alone, they’ve done wonders reminding me that I am loved and that they’re waiting patiently for me to realize that I’m not alone – and that I never was.
I know that brighter days are coming. I know that one day I will feel okay.
It just won’t be today.