Have you ever wished you could skip a day entirely? Just wipe it from existence, go directly from Sunday to Tuesday. I wanted that more than anything today. But no matter how long you lay in bed willing it to happen, at some point you have to open your eyes. We can’t freeze time, we can’t rewind or fast forward our lives, and we can’t skip days.
Today should have been our due date.
I new it was coming up. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. What would I be doing now if… What would I be feeling, or thinking or experiencing… How much happier would I be…
The strange thing is, I haven’t been sad. I saw pregnant women on the street, and I didn’t think twice. I saw a woman unloading twin car seats, and I smiled. I’ve felt a strange sense of calm for the new path we’re on. I was ok.
Then today came, and the energy to smile is just that much harder to muster. I can’t look at the baby outside the gym, and strollers on the street make me sick to my stomach. I wish, with all my heart, that things were different. But this is the hand I was dealt, and I can’t skip today. So I wallow, and I hurt. I stuff my face with junk food and watch the rain. But something pulls me off the couch, to the small grey room with the plush rocking chair. Because as much as it hurt to loose those twins, as much as it tore at my soul, I had somehow found the way to keep dreaming, to keep moving forward. And that little grey room, with it’s yellow cabinet doors and newspaper cut out of a crib, that’s our future.
So despite my funk I pull on my boots, grab an umbrella, and drive to the store. I won’t give birth to twins today. But I can put one foot in front of the other. I can hang yellow curtains in that little grey room. And hopefully, one day, our baby will be here to enjoy them.