5w4d

D. is back in town, and I’ll be seeing him presently. This feels strange, as I don’t quite know what to do or say. And the fact that I’m consistently nauseated makes me think that all I’ll be able to do when I see him is curl up on the couch and let him rub my back.

5w2d

The small spaces… I talk about them all the time: places where we feel empowered and fully in control of our own lives and decisions. And loved, completely and unconditionally loved. With all the chaos and unpredictability in the world and all the times when our best-laid plans go awry, it’s necessary to have small spaces, and last night I was reminded we can find them in the least likely of places. Sometimes reconnecting with an old friend is all that’s needed to feel comfort again, and sometimes sitting and talking with someone who knows just how to listen is all that is needed to feel safe to enter into the journey of making difficult choices. And to hear I’ll be proud of you no matter what from someone who’s also been the rope in a tug-of-war between someone else’s notions of right and wrong? Well, that was more than I’d asked for.

4w6d

This is going to sound silly, he says. And I know it’s my fault. But I want my old girlfriend back.

You and me, both, sweetie. I’ll keep looking.

4w5 (evening)

Just as I am starting to feel as comforted this week as I felt abandoned last week, I realize I have shut down completely. I don’t feel most anything; even anger just sits there: stillborn, voiceless, disconnected from passion, in the pit of my soul. I have not laughed in 24 hours. I could cry if it didn’t feel fraudulent and hollow.

This is what I wanted, I tell myself, to feel nothing when I realized I was in this alone. Now that I am not alone, I recoil from embraces, hesitate on the precipice of kisses, screen my phone calls, ignore well wishers. Most of all D. seems a burden, someone I must tolerate because we had something I wanted before I stopped wanting anything. Today V. suggested I take another candlelit bath, force the tears, scream to Ani DiFranco at the top of my lungs. But my skin is parched from too much soaking in waters that bring no clarity, the tears refuse summoning, and I sold my Ani CDs some time ago to pay my rent.

I am reminded of Sharon Olds — “once you lose someone it is never exactly the same person who comes back” — and wonder how it is one we reconnect after loss. Even more: How can I return to the person I was ten days, two weeks, a month ago? After the pain, the abandonment, the quick and fearful realization — maybe I’ve lost him for good this time — how is it possible that a familiar embrace, the scent of our bodies, gentle kisses and hesitant touches, or anything intimate could possibly bring us back to a time when we couldn’t possibly imagine the point at which love would be painful?

I am reeling from the not-losing, wondering when I’ll recognize myself again.

4w4d

I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself, tired of worrying how I’ll cope if D. can’t give me all the support I need.While my perspective on the world remains colored by sadness and loneliness, I’ve begun to take steps to make sure I’m okay. Working on my relationship with D. is obviously necessary, and there are lots of things that need to be addressed if we are to “make it” as a couple, but I’m tired of putting so much energy into the process. Let me get through to June 5, and then I’ll worry about us. Right now, it’s too much to cope with.

And so I told a couple more friends, hoping for support, which is coming in spades. Today, C. listened to me talk for forty-five minutes or more, offered lots of empathy, and allowed me the time to work through some things out loud, figure out for myself that it isn’t that I don’t want to have another baby necessarily; it’s that I can’t have one with D., or at least not right now. If I could move to Montana or otherwise steal away from D., hide this child from him, trick him into not knowing, I’d do it in an instant. But beyond not being able to live with myself if I did any of those things, I don’t think I’m ready to wed myself (literally or figuratively) to this man for 18 years or more, when there is already so much uncertainty about our relationship.

I’ve also contacted the Chicago Women’s Health Center, which offers both crisis counseling (pre-abortion) and a post-abortion support group. I’d called to sign up for this summer’s post-abortion group, knowing in advance that I’d need it, and I suspect the counselor on the phone could tell I needed a bit something before that point. I’ll be seeing her this week, and I’m glad services like that exist. Before my last abortion — which was just after 9/11, a point in time where everything was turned upside down — I went to four “options counseling” sessions at Planned Parenthood, which was extremely helpful. I’m hoping these sessions will offer the same sort of clarity.

The main thing is that I no longer feel I can’t make it through this without D. by my side. And not only can I survive on my own, but I will if I have to. I’m not scared of that anymore. I’m also planning on going away for a couple of days over the holiday weekend with my younger son, just to get away from the city and reconnect with nature and my inner goddess, so to speak. Just me and the boy, finding our way in the world.