Model Portrayed.
This week I was bitten by a dog. I won’t go into the specifics, so suffice to say, it really hurt.
As I wailed on the floor of my house with a towel wrapped around my injured arm, I immediately thought, “Why am I crying? This doesn’t hurt nearly as much as giving birth!”
That thought didn’t stop the tears, but it got me thinking. How often do I compare my everyday experiences to my memories of Dominic?
Because I think of Dominic every single day, I compare my “now” to moments with him, or I think of moments I’ve missed.
Some instances include:
- When I see a mother with a brand new baby, I wonder what it would have been like if I had been the one shopping in the store with newborn Dominic.
- When I make weekend plans, I think about how much more difficult that would be with an infant.
- When I see my neighbor pushing her stroller with her infant inside, I wonder if I could have done that with Dominic while trying to manage my two dogs on leashes.
- When I visit Dominic and he plays with me, or puts up his little arms because he wants to be held, I wonder what it would be like to feel needed by him every day.
- When the smell of spring and the warm sunshine remind me of the days when I was pregnant, sitting outside eating Cheerios, hoping the squirmy baby inside me wouldn’t knock over the bowl I rested on my “preggo shelf.” (one time he did)
These ordinary happenings often trigger pangs of regret and grief. Sometimes I even feel a sense of doom, knowing I will spend the rest of my life wondering about what could have been.
I wish I could share a magic formula for overcoming this anguish. But I haven’t found one. Although I sometimes handle the feelings better, I often just push through and put them away in that instant, knowing they will rise again when I least expect it.
P.S. My dog-bitten arm is fine.
