Thoughts in through the looking glass.

  • Sept. 1, 2022, 10:29 p.m.
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  • Public

I have two tentative job offers and will likely have a third in hand soon. I have no idea what I will do. And instead of being thoughtful about it, at the end of this long day (with the promise of another long day tomorrow), I’m here recording entirely unrelated thoughts.

It’s been almost five years since the miscarriage. I don’t really carry much sadness about it anymore. I can’t imagine life otherwise. I wouldn’t even want to if I could. The children I dreamed for are here and lovely. I also feel like I can finally see that first pregnancy for what it was, devoid of any of the misplaced shame I held for so long. I’ve had three pregnancies: each one unique, each one a transformative experience, each one very real.

I am raising my three year old with empathy. I try my best to recognize and honor his wants and needs, to take them seriously and to give them commensurate weight as I balance the wants and needs of each member of our family. And what I have found as I do this is not just compassion for him, but compassion for the child I once was. My needs and wants were real. How often they were not met, ignored, or slandered, was not a reflection on their legitimacy. It’s hard to hold this truth, which is in part about the neglect of my parents, while I continue to build a relationship with them in the current day. Somehow it feels like a denial of the way things were. But perhaps that’s just the wrong framing. Because, in truth, they are not now really all that different from the people they were then, except that they no longer have the power to hurt me so.

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