I've gone through phases with August 28th. First it was a beautiful shining jewel of a date that I longed for, then it was a date I tentatively circled in my planner, then it was a mark in my calendar that I hated myself for writing it in pen and not pencil, and then finally, finally, FINALLY it was a day I decided I would set aside to do something really special for myself.
A little while after my miscarriage, my mom gave me a tiny gold ring engraved with 8-28-14 and a teeny heart as a way of honoring the experience as a whole. I remember when she gave it to me she said, "You don't have to wear it if it makes you sad, I just wanted you to have it". When I first received it I didn't know how I felt about it. However, as the days have gone by I look down at that tiny ring and it is such a strange kind of comfort. It reminds me that what happened to me was important enough to memorialize. It reminds me of the sadness, sure, but also the love that is around me. And on the days that ever being pregnant feels like just a dream, I look at it and remember it happened and that I lived and am living though all that came after.
As my thwarted due date draws nearer, however, I find all sorts of emotions being kicked up. Emotions that I thought I had fairly successfully resolved are back and fresh as a daisy. Suddenly I'm noticing every woman who looks like she's about to pop (would it sound paranoid if I said I feel like they're following me?). I have to hold myself back from manically grabbing each of them and asking : What would I be feeling right now?? Do you feel so, so lucky?? For this and other reasons that also point to me becoming ever-so-slightly unglued, I made a plan to reclaim my due date. I thought treating myself to a massage or a day trip or a fun evening with friends would be the right way to not give August 28th all the power. The Universe apparently had other plans for me that day.
As I've shared in previous posts, post-miscarriage testing revealed a uterine anomaly that has to be surgically corrected. Due to insurance issues and Chris switching jobs I knew I had to do the surgery before September 1. And what was the only day that my doctor could perform the surgery, you ask? Why, 8-28-14, of course. I kid you not. I actually almost burst into a fit of laughter when the medical secretary told me. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it would work out like this, because as we have learned, the Universe loves to have a bit of a chuckle at me. I hung up the phone with the secretary and felt that initial blast of dark humor dissolve to make way for the the weight of the world crashing down on me. The thought of opening my eyes in a hospital bed post surgically on the day that I theoretically would have been there to give birth just seemed so cruel (of course I'm not underestimating the silver lining of being benevolently knocked out by general anesthesia for a good portion of the day).
I called in the High Counsel of Talking Becca Off a Ledge and conversations with them slowly helped me to begin to reframe August 28th. Perhaps one way or another my energy was meant to change that day. I'd like to believe that the powers-that-be had earmarked that day for some sort of Earth-shifting event and maybe it just isn't the one I expected or hoped for. To be honest, I have no clue how I am going to feel when I wake up on the 28th. I am sure I will be nervous and maybe a little sad, but I hope that in addition to that I can view the day as the start of something new. The last 9 months didn't conclude with a baby for me, but that gestational period instead brought forth connections, growth, insight, and new depths of emotion and empathy. It brought me thousands of chances to practice keeping my sense of humor in the darkest of times. It brought me a greater knowledge of the incredible support system I am lucky enough to have around me. It brought me all of you that tune in to read this blog every week (for which I am flooded with gratitude). August 28th was clearly always meant to be a charged day for me, but I think at this point I will be able to have a hand in how it unfolds and what it represents. Now when I look down at the date engraved on my ring I will not only think about this experience, what it taught me, and what it left me with, but I hope I will also see the date when a new chapter began.