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The courage to be pregnant and a therapist: Over 12 months ago....


It is with reserve and anxiety that I face the next stage of my life and (possibly) career. Soon my husband and I will be welcoming a baby girl into the world. I’ve heard it changes everything, even the things I don’t want to change. I know for certain that as a therapist things have already been changing and even my visual responses have moved in a new direction.

It all began well over 12 months ago...

When my husband and I, decided it was finally time to move towards the next stage of our lives, we certainly didn’t know half of what was coming our way. In retrospect, the decision seemed very easy at the time.

After what felt like an eternity working on my dissertation and not getting anywhere, early 2015 brought the news that I was with child. Balancing a full time job, teaching, and writing seemed more daunting than the news of what was developing inside. Until about week 20 we just continued to do as we’ve always done...

...and then the first sonogram. Questions and smiles and wishes about future careers, suspended in a breath. A breath, abruptly taken as the monitor was turned away. We were given a box of tissues and asked to wait. Then escorted through back door shortcuts to see the OB. The next few hours were a flood of tears and soundless expressions of grief. We didn’t know we could hurt so deeply and thoroughly.

As I waited for the C&D less than 24 hours later, I drew, because I didn’t know what else to do. I had stopped crying hours before. I was spent. There were no more tears (or so I thought). My body felt foreign and the eminent procedure more so. I drew and drew focusing on a 6x6 piece of paper and the color pencils I was using with everything I had left. Between questions and prep-work, I drew. The image seemed familiar, it was intimate, expressive, and containing.

*I posted the image here some time ago (I think - those days were blurry) but said nothing of its origins. I’m not sure I could have then. I’m not sure what motivated me to do so now, but I am going with it.


March 2015

I went back to work a few days later - seeking the familiarity of routine. The reality of the loss came at me in waves, slowly becoming less frequent as the days passed. Some hours there weren't enough tissues in the world, and others I was "fine"-enough. 
  
To make a longer story short, I rallied (I didn’t know what else to do) and thrust the frustration and fears into my dissertation. It got finished.

And I thought since I hadn't told many, that it was all behind me/us.

Next post: Another spark of life.


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