Valerie and I often talk about how, no matter when we talk to someone, we are always in the middle of their story. We continue to change and evolve and process and grow. Our priorities change, our circumstances change, our lives change. We adjust, we readjust, we find balance—and then we fall again. And begin again.
More than 4 years ago I wrote about what it was like trying to rebuild my life after a devastating miscarriage knocked me off my feet. I’ve revisited that idea here to give an update on what feels like a continual rebuilding and readjusting to a new life. You can listen to me read the essay here. […]
I knew that it wouldn’t do me any good to say, well, I’m going to have a baby and then I’ll figure out my life because I’d already made pretty much made a solid decision that I was going to place him for adoption and I didn’t want to put my life on hold any longer.
There is an expectation with pregnancy that growing a life leads to glowing. The question, “How are you feeling?” is supposed to elicit maybe some talk about morning sickness, followed quickly by, “But we’re so excited.” The words “prenatal depression” are rarely heard even in the rare case they are acknowledged by the expectant mom.
