Been a while since I've been here, yes. But how I miss writing ever since I left the paper and there is no home for now (working on that).
When I received the weekly email from Kat with the choice of writing prompts, there was one in the list that I knew I would be writing about this week.
My prompt for the week:
I thought my child was going to exist, but instead he/she does not.
Every time I type something like that "out loud," get it printed out on page or screen, the edges of my heart fray a bit more, like a random thread on a sweater that start to unravel. You see, I don't talk about this much. As I said in my column on this topic, people in my situation are not out and about in the public eye, talking about this. You don't see us at the public park with the other moms or attending story hour at the local library.
For reasons I won't go into, my child does not exist. He or she (and I had my names for both of course) will never exist. This is not by my choice but every day I am reminded of it. Every. Day.
Just today in fact. An all-personnel email was received in my inbox at work. The main boss was inviting all employees to participate in "Take Your Daughter or Son to Work Day" coming up next week. Mother's Day on the horizon in May is always a given that it will be the type of day I will want to stay under the covers for far too long. But all these other "little" days -- Take Your Daughter to Work Day, the receive-the-baby-shower-invite days, the telemarketer calling to poll me about children's vaccinations. These are all things that tug at that fragile thread and I never know when the crashing wave is coming.
A co-worker is expecting. Luckily we do not work that closely together, but she was in my area of the office this morning. I had to find an excuse to leave. She was sharing her baby names.
They were the same as mine. What would have been mine......
