When Group Beyond Blue Co-moderator Melzoom forwarded me her most recent journal entry, I was blown away. Not just at how she can articulate her feelings, but at how she can feel them. I mean, really feel them. I have always admired that about her. She’s not too busy to experience life in its fullest sense, and I learn a great deal from her in this category.
You can check out more of her journal posts on her profile by clicking here. But I thought this most recent one was quite fitting with our topic today, on befriending feelings.

One at a Time
I was feeling weird. My energy was all trapped around my stomach and I knew something was off. With everything that went on in January and February with my kidneys, I wondered if that was part of it. A few days passed.
And then it hit me.
So I drove to CVS to refill a prescription and stood in aisle 7 staring at boxes. The names all assured accurate results in only a few minutes. I remembered a scene from Sex And The City where Carrie and Miranda are doing the same thing.
Miranda: This one is on sale– it’s half off.
Carrie: I just spent $395 on a pair of open-toed Guccis last week. This is not the place to be frugal.
I bought a Vitamin Water. And a half-gallon of milk. And some gum.
I felt like a teenager buying condoms, loading up my arms with random impulse buys, hoping that the pharmacist wouldn’t say anything or notice. No such luck.
“You know these things don’t go together?” He said, eyeing the pink box and my prescription for Xanax. He noticed my wedding ring as I swiped my American Express. “Oh. You’re married.” I looked at him blankly.
Married. As if that matters.
Forty-five minutes later, I threw away the stick with two pink lines. I knew I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. For a moment there was hope. Then reality set in and grief overwhelmed me. I knew what was about to happen. I could feel that, too. The mild cramping, the sensitivity to light. I took a Tylenol and went to sleep. I had nightmares of inside-out babies with wings. Again.
Two days later, the cramping got worse. I went to the bathroom and decided today was not a good day to wear khakis. I put on black yoga pants and my husband’s hoodie, crawled into bed, and wanted to cry.
I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t blink or breathe or think either. But I couldn’t cry.
For the third time in five years, my body decided I had an infection. My hostile uterus (yes, that is the term for it) ejected the foreign object with exacting precision. No infection here.

But it wasn’t an infection. It was… what was it? Not a baby. Not a life. A mere clump of cells multiplying at breakneck speed. That’s all.
Yesterday I met my best friend for dinner in a little restaurant at the mall. I thought of telling her, but couldn’t find the words. She ordered a ginger ale. I looked at her quizzically as the waitress walked away. She began to talk about an upcoming trip with her husband and how much she is looking forward to it because, “it will be a while until we can travel again.” She beamed. Radiant.
I squealed and we hugged and did all the obligatory best friend stuff. When did you find out? What was your reaction? I bet husband is psyched! How far along? When is the due date? Have you told your families? Let me know as soon as you pick the nursery colors so I can start knitting! When are you telling everyone else? I can’t wait to plan the shower!
We paid the bill then I went shopping with her as she looked at maternity clothes. We talked about upcoming social events and what she’d wear, what she couldn’t wear. I hugged her in the parking lot as tightly as I could. She is my best friend. This is what she has always wanted. I can’t wait to meet this new little friend in September. I thought of all those things and buried my face in the collar of her down coat and whispered, “I am so happy for you.” I meant it.
Driving home, all I could think of was that stupid pink box and those stupid pink lines and my stupid, stupid, stuuuuupid uterus.
I still couldn’t cry.

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