Days rolled by… weeks even. I occasionally caught myself holding my belly, desperately trying to feel the connection I once felt before. I had convinced myself that losing my child was something I could’ve prevented. But deep down I knew that no matter how perfect the timing was for me, for my mental health, to bring a child into this world… it just wasn’t our turn. To turn back time and feel that high once more was what I needed to be myself again. It was strenuous, the task of pretending to have moved on with a life that fell in the opposite direction. Each time I nodded that yes, I was okay… was a flat out lie, and I knew that I had become transparent.
Even though my body was needing time for recovery, my mind was shouting with purpose. Trying for another baby was something I had instantly considered, and there was no hiding it. This had caused an uproar of voices, a scolding of opinions… much of which I didn’t care to hear. The glimpse of motherhood I had experienced was taken far too soon and there was no convincing otherwise. I needed to come back from this… from this memory that wanted to live in the present. My mental health was struggling, once again, and it seemed to almost deteriorate completely.
With each corner I turned, I was welcomed by another headache… another worry. Every hiccup I’ve encountered has tested my limits and pushed me too far. It was time to run… far enough to give my strength time to build up again. Please, just give me the strength.
We packed our bags and moved to The Sunshine State, the first time I’ve ever left my childhood home. I gave up my job, my education, and a life full of challenges (that I barely survived). Headed full speed down the fast lane… I was willing to let life take its course. There was no way things could have gotten any worse, and if it did, I was ready to take on the world. I thought that moving would alleviate my worry of losing out on motherhood again, but the anxiety only grew worse and set me back… as it always did.
What was originally a vacation stay, before we decided to move, our reservation at a beautiful resort was calling our names. We had decided that after the last few months of despair, this was exactly what my boyfriend and I needed. The sun warmed my skin even while the wind fabricated a tender breeze. There was something about the Florida air that made our transition so simple, so far from complicated. The path around the resort lead a gorgeous scenery, one that we spent a lot of our time obsessing over. We spent nights on the balcony awaiting a storm that the news channels were threatening. Dozens of pamphlets were spread across the dining room table, informing us of events and activities within the resort. Regardless of what day we were asked to check out, this felt like home. I wanted to hold on to this feeling… forever.
After a lovely dinner spent watching a scary movie, taking a shower was next on my agenda. My fingers ran through my long hair, beginning the disruption of the knots and tight curls. The steam clouded the mirrors seconds after turning the water on. Not long after, I became faint. This was unusual being that I always turned the knob toward hot, as far as it could go. The shower doors remained cold, which I found as my only relief from the dizziness. As I leaned my head against the glass I thought, something isn’t right. I sat on the floor of the shower in hopes that my body needed a few seconds to pull through. I reached up and shut the water off, waiting for the cool gust of air to swarm my body.
You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. Just breathe.
I dragged my body to the bed and spread out over the sheets. I soaked through layers of blankets without a worry of moving to let them dry. I just needed a few minutes…
While minutes turned to hours and hours turned to, “where’s the nearest drug store?”