I was mad once. I used to force myself into things more - force to keep up appearances, force to do what had made it on my to-do list, until it hit me over the head that plenty of times there were excellent reasons why I was postponing such or such item. I hadn't grown into it. There was an unanswered question I needed to work through. Simply, there was a reason, sometimes unconscious, to wait.

I believe I've written here before about things coming together - reading just the book you needed at the right time, or meeting just the right stranger one day for an unexpected and enlightening conversation.
And often it isn't that the world has changed (has it ever), rather than our perspective has shifted. We notice all the strollers and pregnant bellies once we start expecting ourselves, for instance.

Thursday nights are my night off where I go to prenatal yoga, ritually. I hang out with other pregnant ladies, and greatly enjoy the circle of life - the new little tummies and those who never return only to send a birth announcement a few weeks later. There is something immuable (that's probably not a word in the English dictionary) about the length of time of a pregnancy, which despite today's rushed-rushed, pay-to-get-things-your-way culture, is level for all. Many months of pregnancy, and despite incredible impatience, especially during the first pregnancy, nothing sensible about wishing for a rush.

When asked, I always talk about 'my first pregnancy', not 'last time', when referring to my pregnancy with A. Because this is my third, not my second pregnancy. The second one ended rather dreadfully in a hospital, after I had been bleeding consistently for 10 days. I thought I was managing the miscarriage, doing it my way, simply (read unmedicalized; I was far from home and had not gotten the chance to see my OB when the bleeding started), in the comfort, and secrecy too, of my home and a few friends and family via the computer mostly. But I went into painful labor and heavy bleeding one morning, and had to have surgery. We don't have much practice talking about feelings and loss in my family, and no one had experienced the same type of loss, so expectedly (that has to be a word), I turned to online communities of those who had lost a pregnancy. And I cried. And I buried my grief to continue caring for my sunny child.

And I continued to cry occasionally. Yoga released quite a bit of emotions.
P and I found our way to reconnect past it. The expected due date passed, and a weight was lifted. The crying has subsided, though I did find myself with silent tears last week during our hypno birthing fear-release session (don't ask).

But a certain rawness hasn't disappeared.
I had resolved not to talk about this loss here, because I did not know how to find a way to mention it without asking for pity. Without feeling self-conscious as I am more comfortable being a part of an audience than having the spotlight shining on me. I did not believe either that hiding it was helping anyone, and I am apalled at how little our cultures give space to the very large number of women who have suffered the loss of a pregnancy, or a stillbirth. But I simply was not ready.

And I am more ready now.

With the birth of my second daughter less than 8 weeks away, I do find myself going back over that last stay in the hospital. That sense of immense loss which had me sobbing before I was even really awake from the anesthesia. That day in the hospital whose anniversary is coming up; and which ironically could be this daughter's birth day as well.

I am more ready now, more prepared for healing. I wish that if you have a grief or loss you are working through, that you will get there too.