At the dawn of each year, I look out and stand on the precipice of the unknown, hoping that the best is up next… I tally my losses and gains knowing that what lies before me will be more mystery, less familiarity. There is a certain exhilaration at the thought of starting anew. I am fearless in beginnings. Yet, I weaken under the thought that my experiences of the past will become more and more faint, drifting further from me, as the years tick, tick, tick away.
The year 2020 had so much sentimental promise. A new decade awaits. A new president awaits. A new hope for change awaits. A new marker staked in an already eventful millennium awaits. In my own optimism, I was certain this would be the year, it all came together. I would be wrong.
Before we could put away our Christmas trees, our party dresses or our holiday blues, Kobe Bryant, his 14-year-old daughter and seven others lost their lives in a horrific helicopter crash. Before we could finish mourning those souls, Covid-19 spread across the globe resulting in nearly one million deaths worldwide by the years end. While we prayed to God to keep our loved one safe from harm, the nation became polarized over the killings of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor. While we angered and raged in our homes and on streets, a most-tumultuous presidential-election was underway dividing the country into angrier mobs of protest. A slew of nonsensical news filled the screen: murder hornets, west coast wildfires, Kim Jong Un death rumors, stock market crashes, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle calling it quits on the royal family, etc… But then more death. First, “Black Panther” actor Chadwick Boseman at 43-years-old. Then, Supreme Court Justice and Women’s Rights Activist Ruth Bader Ginsburg at 87-years-old. The rock legend Eddie Van Halen at 65-years-old. And, “Jeopardy!” host Alex Trebek at 80-years-old. As if to soothe all these blows, the year would end with some reprieve: President-Elect Joe Biden to save the nation and a vaccine to save our families. This year certainly slapped the shit out of us, and then kissed us goodnight.
Running parallel to these events, were my own. Life has its ebb and flow. We are quick to showcase the positive but forbid anyone from prying into our negative. We humans are magicians. We can hold so much accumulated angst in our bodies, hearts and minds yet all the while we’re performing our best disappearing act for the crowds. We are truly masters at the art of disguise. This year a mask fell from my face. I revealed the mystery, the magic, the act.
I faced a pain I’ve never known. The pain of severe disappointment. The pain of loss. I see no reason to hide behind this pain any longer. In the past, I’ve lost lovers. I’ve lost friends. I’ve lost jobs. I’ve even lost my mind on occasion. But, I’ve never lost a child. I lost something that was growing inside of me. Something I had longed for over three and a half years. Something I worked hard to have. Something that I prayed for.
My miscarriage was the undoing and beginning of my new decade. I remember the day clearly when my husband and I saw our first positive result. Had I known, only seven weeks later, that I would see and hear a heartbeat that would eventually slow, then stop, then fall out of me – would I have been as in love? Would I have allowed myself to fall in love with motherhood so soon? Would I have contacted, interviewed and hired a midwife? Would I have purchased my long awaited list of birth books and baby books? Would I have given you a name?
My heart fell away from my soul and I’ve never seen a place so dark, so hopeless, so unfair. So to begin again now, to attempt a hope for motherhood, to invite the possibility of becoming so undone once again…is how I stand before a new year with eyes wide open, my back shielding the past and my most-humble voice saying, “Yes, let’s do this, all over, again.”