Prom

Last weekend was Clark’s prom. My brother is now a junior in high school and able to go (at Clark only juniors and seniors can go, freshman and sophomore can if asked by an upperclassmen). Jeff took his girlfriend to prom so I went back Friday evening to watch Grand March and take a bunch of pictures. It’s the first prom I’ve been at since I went to my own and it was such a weird feeling. I can remember all four, yes four, of the proms I attended as a freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior. I remember the excitement of picking out the perfect dress, going to get my hair done, doing my nails and make-up, and getting a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. I can’t believe it’s already been five years since my last prom. The most unbelievable part is that my little brother is old enough to be taking his girlfriend to prom! My sisters were both there as well and prior to the start of Grand March we were talking about our proms and Melissa made the comment that she and Steph both attended their senior prom with the men they are now married to! Then of course Jeff had to start teasing me about the guys I dated, but since I married an amazing man he can only tease so much!

Going to Jeff’s prom made me realize how much is going to happen in the next year. He’ll play his final sports, have his final homecoming, go to his senior prom, and then graduate! I enjoy being able to see him go through all of this and still distinctly remember how I felt when I went through it all.  



2011 Prom



Healing

This year is off to a rocky start. I want to heal and move forward from some things. I think the best way for me to do this is to let it all out, say what happened, and stop trying to hide. My family and closest friends know what happened, they also think I’m “fine” or maybe they know me better and don’t, but that’s what I keep saying. In the last two months I have said “I’m fine” more times that I could possibly count. I have put a smile on my face and pretended I’m not broken, but I am. Exactly two months ago I had a miscarriage. I’ve grown to hate that word. I hate hearing it, I hate thinking it, I hate saying it, but sometimes it’s all I can think about.

One of the happiest moments of my life ultimately produced the worst week of my life. Yes, a week. I took a pregnancy test on Saturday morning and it wasn’t confirmed until Thursday that I was miscarrying. I thought I might be, things just weren’t normal from the moment the test said ‘Pregnant’. I went into a clinic Monday morning and had blood drawn. The blood draw confirmed I was pregnant, but either I was miscarrying or in a very early stage of pregnancy. I had to wait until Thursday to have my blood redrawn and that afternoon they called back and confirmed my HCG levels had decreased and I was miscarrying. I told myself I was okay. I never had a chance to get excited about a baby or get attached, but that’s a lie. I was attached the moment I took the test. I’m not putting all this in my blog and available to everyone because I want sympathy. I don’t want sympathy, it’s the last thing I want. I’m writing about it to help me heal and also because I’m tired of feeling like there’s an elephant in the room all the time. There’s this huge part of my life that I’m not suppose to talk about. I want people to know this happened so that if it happens to them they know they have someone they can talk to. I also want people to stop asking me when I’m going to have a baby, right now that question makes me want to run out of a room crying.  

I also really need to express my gratitude for some truly amazing people in my life, because I’m not sure they know how much I appreciate them. My husband, of course, is amazing and carried me through not only that week, but also the last two months. He went with me when I got my blood drawn and let me deal with my emotions anyway I needed to whether it was crying on his shoulder, yelling at him for no reason, avoiding the situation, or being deliriously optimistic. My family is also amazing. My mother listened to my rambling phone calls, Steph listened to my freak out moments, and Melissa and Stacy just understood better than anyone else could.

I’m healing and moving forward and my only hope is that someday this can all be a distant memory that doesn’t make my heart ache or cause a million unanswered questions to bombard my thoughts.