5w6d

D. hung up on me yesterday and, other than a couple of nasty e-mails, nothing for 24 hours. He’s been telling people about our situation, and I pointed out that I felt my privacy was being violated. I received I didn’t do anything wrong and how dare you tell me whom I can tell… then silence. I typed up an e-mail I didn’t send:

I don’t know what to say anymore. I’m tired of working hard to stay in love with you. I’m tired of fighting for our relationship. I’m not saying it’s over, because I don’t think that’s inevitably the case, but you’re on the verge of losing me. I have made mistakes, but I don’t deserve malevolence.

I’m at the point where I no longer know what the best thing to do is, both with the pregnancy and this relationship. I talked with my friend N. last night, whom I’d called to set up a lunch date. He called back almost immediately and said, without provocation, You sound really depressed…more than I’ve ever heard you. Are you okay? What can I do? The answer is that I don’t know what anyone can do, short of taking a two-by-four and whacking D. across the head to get him to wake up to the fact that he is completely fucking things up. From abandoning me when I’ve needed him most to a complete lack of empathy about his violation of my privacy, I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

As I stave off both tears and episodes of vomiting, I both want D. to go far, far away and come rushing back to take me in his arms and apologize. But apologies only work for so long, and there have been too many of them for too long. Perhaps what I need is to learn how to do this alone.

5w5d

I suppose I thought I’d waltz in to D.’s place last night and everything would be okay, and we’d decide that we could see this pregnancy through to term. Instead, I’m left with all the reasons I don’t have to, feeling brow-beaten into something I already know is the best thing. What I’m left with is a sinking feeling that, come June 5, there won’t be any reason to stay with D. All the items on my reasons to have an abortion list seem to work equally well on a reasons to leave D. list.

5w0d

Today, the magical thinking begins. I am pondering the list of reasons I don’t have to and my (perhaps delusional) optimism is worrisome. In this state of mind, there are no (good) reasons I can’t have a baby: surely the financial, emotional, and physical factors (not to mention the shaky state of my relationship with D.) are incidental, irrelevant facts, fragments of information not necessary when weighing my options.

And, of course, when I mention to D. that perhaps we need to reconsider, he doesn’t argue. What does this all mean? I wonder. I’m notorious for accepting jobs, responsibilities, projects, that I then push aside because I’ve overestimated my ability to handle them (in addition to my regular work, children, etc.). But a baby isn’t a freelance job I can drop at the last minute. How, exactly, can I think about this at all rationally? I feel as though I am working through the stages of grief in my decision-making process: Denial? Check. Anger? Check. Bargaining? Well, wouldn’t you know it…I’m right there.

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.

4w3d

It’s been more than a day since I’ve seen or talked with D., who told me Friday evening that he needs “a break” until Monday. I don’t understand the idea of stealing away to lick your wounds when it means leaving a fellow wounded person behind alone. He always comes back after a hiatus, but the fact that he takes them when I need him the most is beginning to make me numb.

A few days ago, I e-mailed my friend M., who has some experience with herbal abortions, to get advice on what I should do. Her advice was fairly simple, including not only “natural” abortion methods, but also suggestions on how to cleanse my body and mind:

First I’d suggest taking a long hot bath by candlelight. Shower first to get all clean; exfoliate, scrub, cut your nails, get off any old junk. Then fill a tub with hot water and a generous handful of sea salt. The salt will extract toxins from your skin, rebalance the salinity of your cells, and neutralize the out of whack vibrations you’ve picked up or created in the past few days/weeks. Basically it sets you back to zero – clears your system and spirit. Don’t think about anything during the bath, but before hand, as you slip under the water (til just your face is out), drop the question into your head of what you really want to do. Don’t try to answer it – just soak with it and let something rise to the surface. Usually by the time you get out the answer is peacefully clear to you. Sometimes you go to sleep and either dream the answer, or wake up knowing it. That’s the first thing I recommend, to get right with yourself, balanced and be sure.

If you decide that this is not the time for you to have a child, what you do will depend on how far along you are. If it’s only a few weeks, one of these two should be very effective:

1) 6000 mg of vitamin C a day for several days. Get the tablets and just mega dose for several days, until you’re sure everything has passed.

or

2) Very strong ginger tea 8-10 times a day for several days. Slice up some fresh ginger, put it in a mug with boiled water, let it steep at least 15 minutes. Drink it when it cools a little; add honey and or lemon if you want. It should be strong enough to be good and spicy. Keep at it until you’re sure all is done.

Perhaps I’m too brainwashed by Western medicine, but the herbal methods scare me a little bit, and so I’ve avoided trying them. For same reason I want to avoid a medical abortion, I can’t see myself dosing and then sitting around and waiting for my body to respond. It isn’t that a surgical abortion is much more appealing, especially given that my doctor’s family planning clinic doesn’t offer any anesthesia, but when I’m already struggling with feeling alone and abandoned, I’m not going to put myself in a situation where I will randomly and spontaneously abort. No, I need predictability and order and a plan.

Nonetheless, I did take the first part of M.’s advice last night. I took a nice long shower, scrubbing everything until I couldn’t scrub any more. Afterward, I relaxed and watched some television, ordered a soy cheese pizza, and forced myself to eat, since I’ve had no appetite since Wednesday. And right before bed, I drew a bath with a generous helping of lavender sea salt, where I soaked for quite some time. For an unknown reason, I took the last pregnancy test I had in the house before I climbed into the tub. Of course, I’m still pregnant.

The answer didn’t float to the surface. I went to bed, hoping I’d dream something significant. Instead, I woke to the sound of the “L” at 7am, the alarm clock at 9am, my cell phone at 9:15am. I am now awake, lucid but lacking clarity, alert without any more answers than when I climbed into the tub last night.

4w2d

I don’t know how I can do this. It’s the right thing to do, the only thing that can be done, but at this point I can’t figure out how I will have the strength. If I had money, or energy, or fewer existing medical problems, it would all be so much easier. But I don’t have any of those things, and neither D. nor I are ready for this. Does that make me immoral? A coward? Emotionally weak? I don’t know. Right now, I just want a hug.