Chicken and Broccoli

CW: Pregnancy loss. Again.

This week, Zac and I suffered our second pregnancy loss. Another chemical pregnancy almost identical to our first just a few months ago. Two in a row. We are devastated. We feel broken, defeated, and angry. I have so many thoughts and feelings I am trying to sort through; so many emotions I want to share but very little capacity to express them right now. I’ve been a shell of myself the last few days, surviving solely off the cookies and candy my sweet circle of friends have sent to the house. I will share more in the coming days and weeks on the paid side of things to protect my peace and privacy, but today, I wanted to share something I wrote Wednesday evening (the day it happened).

Chicken and Broccoli

i wake up from my second nap.

it’s 8 in the evening.

the grow lights that sit above the birds of paradise we’ve had by our bedside for two years are on full blast.

at night, on a regular night, i require complete darkness to sleep.

i’ll go as far as moving heavy objects in front of the bedroom shades just to make sure i’ve blocked out any small spill of light.

but on days like today,

and on nights like tonight,

the light doesn’t affect my sleep because this isn’t normal sleep.

this is devastated sleep. this is sad sleep. this is sleep as the only escape from a reality that’s too fresh to face.

as i lay in bed, grow lights on full blast

i hear fans’ shouts and whistles from a faraway crowd.

i can tell it’s not from the tv.

is it from his computer? maybe his phone.

he’s making dinner, something he rarely does.

and he’s watching soccer because it’s his comfort.

his favorite.

i listen as his knife comes down heavily and awkwardly on the cutting board.

long pauses in between every few cuts.

he’s never been the best chopper.

i smell garlic now. subtle but full and familiar.

i text him from bed “what are you making”

“chicken and broccoli” he says.

it’s what was in the fridge.

in fact, it was for a superfood salad i was supposed to make tonight as part of our “get Emma primed for baby growing” meal plan

but there is no baby anymore.

it’s gone.

for the second time in a row.

the internet claimed twice in a row if at all was so uncommon, i had a 1% chance.

but what the internet doesn’t know is that i almost always fall in that 1%.

i am broken.

i feel broken, anyway.

i hurt, mentally and physically.

i fret and worry and curse those who don’t know this pain. it’s the worst pain.

we will find a way. we will get our baby.

i don’t know how and i don’t know when, but i know.

or i pretend to know because the alternative is just too much.

chicken and broccoli until then.

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—EGM