And So We Begin Week 9 ... Again

I thought Week 9 started last Sunday, but, according to the ultrasound and Scout’s adjusted gestational age, Week 9 actually starts today. Just what I needed … five more days added to the first trimester. Argh.

To be honest, I have a lot of mixed feelings going on today. The predominant one is depression.

It was a month ago that Mary was killed. So often, we say things like, “Oh, it seems like it was just yesterday” when we talk about big, life-changing events, whether good or bad. It doesn’t feel like it was just yesterday, though. It feels like it’s been at least a year. It’s not that I feel like I have a year of mourning behind me, a year of distancing, of cushioning, from the initial shock; between Mary’s death, and the secret of Scout, and tax season at work, it’s more like the past month has dragged on for an eternity.

I found out about Scout the weekend before Mary died. Monday evening, as we drove to South Carolina, Mary and I talked about having kids. She asked me if Dan and I ever planned to have them. I answered truthfully, “No, we’ve never planned to have children.” I wasn’t ready to tell anyone about Scout yet.

Tuesday morning before I left for work, I mentioned that conversation to Dan. I told him how, when I finally did tell the world that Scout was on the way, Mary and I would laugh over the fact that I’d had to dodge her question that night on the way to Anderson. It never occurred to me that that day—the day we would laugh—would never come. If it had, that would have been this past Wednesday. Instead, it was the day Mary’s parents came to clean out her desk.

I found out about Mary that Tuesday morning after she was killed, less than an hour after my conversation with Dan. Several hours later, I had my first prenatal appointment. My sister came up from Brevard to drive me to the appointment. I was too distraught to drive. I spent most of the prenatal appointment crying to the midwife, sharing the horrible news, vaguely hoping the stress wouldn’t hurt the baby.

People have talked to me of the “circle of life,” and how God has blessed me with this child, even as I lost a friend. I don’t know. I tend to be cynical when it comes to speculating about what God does or doesn’t mean to do. Yes, it was an oddly good feeling to know that there was new life growing inside of me. But Mary was gone.

My second prenatal appointment was this past Wednesday, the day Mary’s family came to clean out her desk. It was another day of wildly mixed emotions. As they cleaned out her cubicle, I stood there dumbly, and numbly, just watching. They gave us some of the little stuffed animals Mary kept on her desk. I got a little reindeer. It will be Scout’s.

I know I’m rambling. I’m just not much in a mood for blogging this morning. It’s a dreary day. I think I’ll go get Scout some yogurt.


I won't tell you that God has a plan, because this really sucks. I will tell you that you have an amazing family and friends for a support system, and you will get through this and end up with a wonderful baby who will make you cry tears of joy just about every single day. I love you, Sheltowee & little Scout, too! And so does the Belchigator!
Megan Monk said…
I have already told you I don't believe God plans tragedies... people cause these things to happen... but God does love you, Scout, Dan, Mary, Mary's family, etc... :) And so do we! Hang in there!

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