Ray of Light

"All history becomes subjective; in other words there is properly no history, only biography. Every mind must know the whole lesson for itself--must go over the whole ground. What it does not see, what it does not live, it will not know."

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Something happens to you when you are touched with tragedy-- when your prayers aren't answered, and your miracles go ungranted. It is something that others cannot see or know, unless they have lived it.

You start to emit rays of light to all others who have been touched with tragedy. They unknowingly cling to you. Like moths to a flame, they flock to the brightly glowing embers of the wounds you are still willing to heal. Once they reach you, they know not why they are there. They flutter around in the glow of someone who has gone before them, and has not completely faded into the darkness, yet; stunned and fluttering they spew their own thoughts and fears forward. You listen as they pray their prayers, and wish for their miracles, but you are keenly aware that your history has become their future.

Because miracles don't always come. At least, not the miracles we hope for. While we pray for clashes of thunder and bolts of lightning from heavenly clouds above pointed straight down into the fiery pits of our sorrows bent on erradicating all evil from our lives, what we usually receive are umbrellas and gulashes from kind strangers to weather the upcoming storms.

And the storms do come. They are mighty at first, and then scattered and unexpected- on and off again for seemingly ages as you muddle through your grief. As the years wear on and the scars soften- still there but not as raw- you become keenly aware that the wear and rugged waters created by your unanswered prayers have eroded the edges of your exterior, and revealed gifts and talents that no other circumstance in your life could have unearthed. Your new gifts are unwanted and lonely and cold. But they are also necessary and comforting and beckoning to so many. Your knowledge surpasses anything that the unafflicted could ever know until God forbid, tragedy strikes them too.

Your new powers forge you into a safe harbor for the newly-weary, a lighthouse for the lost, a comforting voice to an old friend who has just learned her mother is not long for this world, or a reminder to the unafflicted about how very lucky they are, so that they may cherish what they still have. And while you never would have wished for these gifts, knowing they are there makes the loss seem more bearable and not so meaningless.

So you keep your light burning bright, and you welcome the newly afflicted with warm embraces and calm words. Because you know the whole lesson, and you have lived it for yourself.

I lasted about two days before melting into a sobbing mess at my mother's house and sputtering out the words, "I'm pregnant again!" I can't remember what her response was, because I was crying too hard. I do remember that the thoughts in my brain consisted of, "She is going to think I'm a moron," and, "Why the fuck are you crying so hard, this is what you wanted!" Shortly after we told the rest of our collective parents, but figured we should wait to tell anyone else.

I still had four months left before I graduated from college. I had two extensive research projects due, and a chemistry class I had been putting off for three and a half years. Holy shit, this would be a long semester. I immediately decided that most people need not know I was with child until I could no longer hide it. My former roommate, whose apartment I frequented between classes, found out when I broke into hysterics after visiting her after class one day and finding that she had gotten high and eaten all of my dill pickle chips over the weekend. I believe my exact words were, "You really can NOT eat all of a pregnant woman's pickle CHIPS!!!" Then, if memory serves, my head became detached from my body and I unhinged my jaw so that I could swallow her whole. Poor girl. I lived with her for three years prior to that, and never once bought dill pickle chips. She probably thought I bought them on accident and they were fair game for any stoner within a ten mile radius. Being the good sport that she was, she apologized and bought me more chips.

The next people to find out were my brothers. I felt it was only fair to let them know over spring break as we were driving down to Florida. After all, I was a basket case and didn't want them to think I was just some run-of-the-mill dramatic woman. No, no. Your sister is a nutjob because she is pregnant, and is morbidly obsessed with every possible complication that could possibly occur. I remember that we were at a rest stop somewhere in Georgia when I told them. They were both happy and gave me big hugs, and I felt like I should hold on to that moment forever. So I did.

I did because, I knew that no matter how loyal and loving and intelligent I was, most people would still be worried when I told them the news. Most people would also know how unstable, and dramatic, and careless I could be. Most people would still be worried. And I didn't blame them. But for a short while, I could keep this secret between me, Mike, my parents, his parents, my brothers, and my ex-roommate. And I could pretend that everyone would be happy, and that everything would be fine.

And it was :)

Like A Fish

How would I keep this a secret? Why a secret, you might ask. Well, once you lose a baby, you aren't eager to go around telling everyone you are pregnant again. I knew I could keep my mouth shut. The problem was going to be my demeanor and mannerisms. For instance, I drank like a fish. How exactly, would I explain the fact that I no longer consumed alcohol? Red flag number one. I also drank caffeine daily. If I suddenly quit, that would be red flag number two. Then there was this stupid fucking gym membership. I was terrified to work-out. I had read all the baby books. All the "Do Not" lists. Most of them said working out was fine, but there was always that last word of caution... and it always went straight to the back of my mind. And in the back of my mind my subconscious was waiting to remind me, "You were running everyday when you lost the baby..." And so I quit doing anything. Gaining one hundred pounds was better than going through the torment of losing another baby. And so I quit drinking like a fish. I quit drinking caffeine. I quit working out. I quit laughing. I started crying. The bitch of getting what you wanted, is that the only thought you have afterwards is the thought of losing it all.

What to Expect When You're NOT Expecting

Seemed like months and months of peeing on sticks that didn't turn the right color, or produce the required amount of lines. They wore on and on. I finally gave up and decided, "Hey, maybe I should quit being a pathetic fat ass and get back in shape." This realization came after visiting a friend at her house while she was home from college on Christmas break. Her mother, upon seeing me for the first time since my wedding, announced that marriage must really agree with me, and gestured toward my growing double chin.

So, a few days later I joined the YWCA. Actually it was January 11th. I don't know why I remember, but I do. It was two days before the due date of the child I should have had. I was supposed to be a waddling mess of anticipation, but instead I was shopping for gym memberships. So, the YWCA it was. It was three blocks away, and you couldn't beat the price. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself. After a tour, I quickly signed the paperwork that would allow me to frequent the old, crooked, three story building whenever I wanted; to do cardio, take yoga, pilates, or swim for the bargain price of twenty five bucks a month. I bought myself a pair of new running shoes and decided to get on with it. Some people aren't meant to have babies. These people should at least look really good to make the people with babies jealous of SOMETHING while the childless women cry over the fact that they can't have babies.

I tried not to think about anything the next two days. I tried not to think about how I should be expecting a new little bundle any minute, and how I should be getting the nursery ready for the last time, and packing hospital bags. I tried to forget that January 13th was the day I was expected to have a baby (give or take a few days) and how I had failed at the most basic human function. I turned my attention to my brother in law's 21st birthday, which was the same day my first baby was due to be born.

We were going to Fast Eddie's Bon Air for his party. It is a rite of passage for anyone turning 21 within a 40 mile radius of Alton to go to Fast Eddie's when they turn 21. I was getting ready. Mike wasn't home from work yet. I was a day late and my mind was turning on me. Should I test before I go? I don't want to consume large quantities of alcohol if I am pregnant...Oh, please. What are the odds of that? You have been trying since July. Just go and have a good time. Well, no. Maybe I will just take one test before we go...

I broke out the stash of pregnancy tests I had accumulated over the last six months. Better to be safe than sorry. I took a deep breath and proceeded with the "testing." I didn't even have to wait the three minutes. Two lines, clear as day immediately appeared.

I stared for a few minutes. Unsure of what my next thought or action should be. I looked at myself in the mirror for what seemed an eternity, not able to will myself to move beyond the confines of the tiny half bathroom. Finally, I uttered to myself (a little too loudly to really be considered an "utter"), "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

There are so many things you miss about your mom once she is gone, that no one tells you about ahead of time. They aren't fancy things, or big things. They are mundane, everyday things. Like, seeing her name in your contact list on your cellphone. I kept my mom in my contact list for two years after it had been relegated as my daughter's play phone. I only got rid of it after I lost my cellphone, had to get a new one and re-enter (manually) all the numbers I had lost. I still have her e-mail address in my yahoo address book, and every e-mail she ever sent me is archived.

You miss talking to her about what you saw on the news this morning. Talking about the election and how awful the ads are. Her reminding you about the halloween parade 87 times. You miss sharing the latest family news with her and getting caught up on all the latest goings-on in with the relatives you don't see nearly enough. Talking to her about your little brothers, and assuring her that they are probably fine even if they haven't called all week. Coming down the basement stairs at church and finding her listening to music she wants the choir to sing next Sunday. Her corny jokes about how sopranos can't sing and count at the same time. Her letting you always sing the alto part in the duet even though she likes it more than the soprano part.

You miss shopping with her. Stopping at McDonald's to get breakfast and a Dr. Pepper on your way out to the mall with her. Picking out Christmas presents for your dad with her. Picking out presents for her with your dad. Telling you to slow down on 270 while stomping an invisible brake, even though you learned how to drive like a maniac from her. Telling you which exit to take even though you have driven to this mall 872 times by yourself.

You miss so many crazy things, you can't even remember them all when you sit down to. But they will pop up, now and again when you are doing something so boring you can't stand it. And then you will laugh a little, and cry a little, and thank God and pray they never quit popping up.

Negative, Negative, Negative

I started back to school in August. I had traded in my two bedroom apartment a block from campus and complete with two lovable roomates, for a one-bedroom apartment fifty minutes away, complete with a new husband and a puppy that wouldn't stop pissing all over the furniture and floor. But, I only had one more year before I would graduate with two degrees. I could DO this. Besides, Mike's current band practiced not more than four blocks away, and we were within a reasonable distance from both sets of our parents. The months droned on, cold and uneventful. Things were calming down, except for the compulsive pregnancy-testing that consumed my life every month. Everywhere I went, there were giant reminders of my failure. I couldn't even go to the mall without being bombarded...

"WOW! You look great! I heard the good news! Congratulations! How far along are you?"
My eyes went into that Deer-In-Headlights expression. Yay, this will be the eightieth time I get to say this for the week! I gave my former co-worker a weak smile. Of course we would run into her today, and of course she would have miraculously heard about the pregnancy by now, despite me living in a different county, and hoping to never cross paths with her ever again for two lifetimes.
I cleared my throat, "Um, actually I lost the baby." Stunned silence... followed by--
"Oh. Ohmigosh I am so sorry, I had no idea. Are you ok?" It was her turn to sport the Deer-In-Headlights look I was growing so accustomed to. I nodded unconvincingly. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Everything is fine. It's ok, I mean you didn't know. How could you know?" I quickly wrapped up the conversation and high-tailed my ass out of the department store. That was enough shopping for one day.

I couldn't get away from the awfulness no matter where I went. It was following me everywhere. At a family reunion, a distant relative who was still in high school came in with her newborn baby. We had to leave early because I quickly turned into a sobbing mess, and Mike insisted it would be a good time to leave. At Target every check-out lane was FULL of pregnant women. I had breakdown after breakdown. I left the store in tears on many occasions. I was sure that everyone was pregnant and that they had gotten pregnant just to spite me, and now they were also stalking me to remind me of how much of a failure I was. And as if that wasn't enough for one person to handle, there was my mother.

Now for those of you who did not have the distinct pleasure of knowing my mom, let me explain a little something. She knew absolutely. everyone. She was on the school board. She was my Girl Scout Troop's leader. She was PTA president. She was the choir and youth director at our church. If there was a job to do, she did it. Besides that, she had eight siblings and still had ties in her hometown, only a half-hour away from where we lived. So naturally, word got out quickly that she was sick, and naturally, it seemed like everyone in the free world wanted to talk about her sickness everytime we came into contact. On one hand, it is very comforting and somewhat a relief to know so many people care about someone close to you... and on the other hand it is overwhelming and terrifying. You can't go grocery shopping without someone who knows your mother asking you a billion and a half questions about how she is doing. You can't get away from it. Even on the days when everything feels pretty normal and you are just minding your own business at Shop'N'Save, you could end up coming out bawling your eyes out because the cashier heard your mother had a terminal illness and wanted you to recount the last six months of your family's life so she could update all her friends on your mother's progress. Nowhere was safe, now.

There was just one thing that might make it all seem a little brighter. If that damn stick would just sprout a second visible line in its little window... After all, it was November now. You didn't even MEAN to get pregant the first time. It wouldn't take that long to get pregnant again. SURELY you were pregnant by now.

I walked back into the bathroom to look at the all-knowing stick. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Picked it up... opened one eye to peer down at it...

Negative.

The Lucky Ones

The summer weeks wore on and on. My mind began practicing exercises in torture, as I like to refer to them. I would make myself think about what it was really going to be like once she was gone. I wouldn't do it for very long--I couldn't. But the thoughts would surface here and there. We would be at a party or some other joyous occasion. My Mom would say something funny or laugh her ridiculously loud laugh at something only she found funny and the thought would creep in, What's it going to be like when no one laughs at your brother making fun of the man he sat next to in the theater yesterday? What is it going to FEEL like when someone knocks on your door at nine o' clock at night and instead of it being your mom jumping out from behind the door and trying to scare you like she is a five year old, it is just some crack-head mistaking your house for the neighbor's? What will it be like when--STOP. Please put your pencils down and do not move on to the next test until the administrator gives you the go ahead.



It was truly an exercise. Just as a body-builder can only do so many repetitions before his body cries, "Stop!" the first time he tries, I could only imagine the world being devoid of my mother for so many milli-seconds before my mind would shut down and crawl back into the comforting shadow of the denial that had consumed my entire psychological schematic. The denial was a safe place. A stranger pulling over to offer you a ride home as you are walking alone in the rain. And here, have some candy and a pop while you sit next to me in the front seat. The entire time you are driving, you feel safe and thankful that the stranger saw you walking all by yourself and was nice enough to pull over. You feel safe and thankful until the car stops and you realize you aren't in front of the address you gave the man behind the wheel.

And so, I would find myself thinking about not having my mother around, and at the same time NOT thinking about it. And some days I would be very, very good at forgetting the exercises completely. There would be extremely good days, when she would be over her sickness from chemo the week before and we would have a few days before she had to go back in for more. We would go shopping or to the movies, or just have the whole family over to the house for pizza and rentals at home. And we could forget... for awhile. The exercises didn't seem so... relevant. She was ok! Look, she is even EATING. She hasn't done that in a couple days. Surely, the doctors were wrong and she has more time! And we could smack that little gnawing pest at the back of our skull and it would submit and go lay on the carpet in the corner of our minds for a little while and leave us alone.

I am sure you all can relate to that gnawing feeling of which I write, even if you haven't watched someone suffer through a terrible disease. It is similar to when you KNOW you have forgotten something at home while on your way to a beach for vacation. Or that feeling you get when you realize that the name of the person waving wildly and running up to you has completely escaped your memory. That feeling that something isn't quite right, but you can't put your finger on it yet. That feeling you get when you are out having a great time with some friends, when you really should be somewhere else. You just made up some lame excuse so you could hang out with your friends. Recall that feeling and multiply it a few times. THAT is very similar to the feeling of having a great time with someone you love, and then suddenly remembering that they are not going to be ok.

But that feeling is really reserved for us lucky ones, isn't it? At least we KNEW in advance that everything was not ok. We had time to prepare, time to say good-byes... right? After all, no one's time here on earth is guaranteed. Any one could go at anytime. We were lucky to have at least that awareness of what was happening, as hard as it may be to deal with. We had been given the time to refocus our energies on spending time with those of us we loved. Our perspectives had been forever altered. It was like being given a super-power you didn't want. You could suddenly see everything that was truly important, and cast away all the things that weren't. Too many people around us were losing loved ones unexpectedly with no warning. That had to be worse... didn't it?