Saturday, May 17, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
So, it has been over a year now since my third miscarriage. It is very difficult to come to terms with the fact that I will never realize my chosen path. You remember Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken”. Well here it is to refresh your memory:
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I studied this poem in high school and I remember interpreting it as Frost lamenting about choices in life and the difficulty of not being able to do everything we might want in this lifetime. I concluded that he was ultimately happy with the choice that he made, perhaps because he had the freedom to choose.
I have had great difficulty coming to terms with the loss I experienced with my last miscarriage. This has been in part due to the bitter pill that this event was not a choice. I was raised to believe that I had the power to create my own reality, but this is not my chosen reality.
I think that I will always feel sad about the road not taken, but I am beginning to appreciate the road that I am on. I didn’t choose this path, but low and behold here I am and it ain’t so bad, and it surely could be worse.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
I am 41 and a half. I just realized tonight, for the first time in my life, my half birthday came and went unnoticed. I have to say I feel a little gypped. Not that I ever celebrated my half birthday by cooking half a birthday cake or anything, but it was always acknowledged, at least by myself. Missing this nonevent seems very poignant now that my daughter is almost five and a half and the halves are very significant to her. She asked a few months back, “If you are five and a half, you are really just five, right?” “Yes dear.” “Then I can say I am five and a half, because I just turned five.” Ah the powers of deductive reasoning, I can see losing arguments with her in my future.