He’s felt it too. He’s been by my side, seen me on my darkest days, seen me get back up. Held me tight through countless nights, pulled me from my covers on countless mornings.  The bad news that came and pummeled us, stealing our hope and stealing our spirits. The tears and anger that lingered, day after day. He was there.

We didn’t leave each other’s side after our first loss. I needed him close to me, the warmth of his hold assurance that I hadn’t lost everything. He felt it too. He cried in the morning, on my shoulder, in my arms. Seeing his wife in the ER, watching her cry, watching her bleed. He wanted to be strong for his wife, but he felt it too.

We sat at the ocean, watching the waves, talking, then laying silent. We watched movies, played with our dog, took long afternoon naps. We hid from work, hid from friends. One week, to make sense of our loss, to try to get strong.

I still had him.

And then he started to move away. Busy with work, on an airplane every week for his job. He understood the hurt, but was moving on. No longer able to carry the weight of the pain. It was easier to have hope, to believe it was going to be ok. And so I was alone.

Another positive pregnancy test.

And then it was gone.

We tried to be strong. He took me to the hospital, waiting, while they emptied me. Held my hand before I went under, I opened my eyes and he was there.  He went back to work right away, believing he was fine, hoping I was too. He trusted the doctors, and we started to argue. They told me nothing was wrong, they told me to try again. He wanted to believe them, but I never did. And so we argued.

And then I was alone.

We got second opinions, third, fourth, fifth opinions. Found we needed to be fixed. More appointments, more doctors, surgeries and procedures. And more bad news. His work sent him to Germany, and we started to tumble. With 9 hours between us, it swallowed us whole. We cried and argued, feeling the weight, feeling overwhelmed. And then he came back and we held each other, reassured each other.

I still had him.

Time passed and we had no choice but to keep going. We got through. We healed, we got fixed. We hit our lowest low, and then got back up. Thrown again and again, but we got back up. And we got stronger. Strong enough to look ahead with hope in our hearts.

I still have him.


2 thoughts on “him

  1. This gutted me:
    “We tried to be strong. He took me to the hospital, waiting, while they emptied me. Held my hand before I went under, I opened my eyes and he was there.”
    A lovely and heartbreaking post.


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