Someday is now.

It was around the end of January 2019 that I missed my period. I waited and waited, thinking it was my body adjusting to not being on birth control for the first time since I was 13. All the same, I decided that I’d stop drinking to be better safe than sorry. 

A few days later I worked up the nerve to go buy a pregnancy test. I spent a lot of time online looking for one that was the most accurate before I went to the store and picked out the one I had decided on. Even though TJ and I had been together for eight years and my mom was constantly nagging me about giving her grandbabies I was worried that someone would see me. Funny that I was still afraid that my mom would just decide to be at Kroger at that very moment and lose her mind. I knew at that point that even if I was pregnant the chances of a miscarriage were high. 

I didn’t want anyone but me and TJ to know until we were through the scary part. So the next morning I woke up extra early so that I could take the test. It was around 5:30 a.m. when I took it and I went and laid back in the bed with TJ. I wasn’t going to sit in the bathroom staring at the clock. I held his hand while the time ticked by and he remained blissfully asleep. Five minutes passed and I crept out of the bed. I stood in front of my bathroom door for another two trying to psyche myself up for whatever was behind the door. Finally, when my heart felt like it was pounding in my throat, I opened the door and peeked at the test. 

I was pregnant. 

Holy shit I was pregnant. 

I crept back in the room and curled up next to TJ. “Hey babe,” I whispered into the dark. 

“Hmm? What babe?” 

“Are you sure you want kids?” 

“Of course I do” he said tiredly.

“Well, that’s good because I’m pregnant.” 

He grabbed my arms and looked at me, as if to make sure I wasn’t kidding and then pulled me closer to him and crushed his lips to mine. When we finally rolled out of bed together he stretched over the bed and kissed my stomach with a little grin. 

“I don’t care if we’re late today, we’re getting donuts and coffee before work. Wait. You can’t have coffee. Or caffeine. Or sushi. “ 

“I’m sure it’s fine hon. I’ll get a tea and it will be fine.” 

I spent a lot of that first day randomly grinning and resisting the urge to text literally everyone I knew that we were starting a whole new adventure. My mom was going to be so happy. The one thing she was always asking me for was grandbabies. Between the random grinning and impulse control I also yo-yo’d with little tinges of fear. What if I lost the little nugget? What if I was a bad mom? What if the major change to our relationship pushed us apart instead of further together. I had spent the majority of my youth doing everything in my power to avoid being a single mom. 

If I’m being honest I never thought I wanted kids until TJ. I had always held the stance that if I wanted a child i’d like to adopt because of how full of addiction, depression, and anxiety my family history is. My mom, great as she is, got so stressed that she would pass out in random places. I imagine some kind of panic attacks because I only ever heard about it in hindsight. My dad, an alcoholic who consistently made the worst life choices possible. Supposedly a great grandpa who killed himself. An uncle who recovered from alcohol addiction just to hang himself in the garage. Another who died of cancer. Add all that up to a gene pool that I didn’t know how to protect a tiny little human from. 

The thing about TJ was, he was the only boy who would pass his line down and I had watched him for the last eight years. Confident that we could overcome anything. Every child he met was mesmerized by him. It’s like they saw him and simultaneously saw a big kid and a jungle gym to climb on. He’s so good with them that the fears I have of being a bad single mom with a crappy gene pool seem like a minor risk. 

The next week he surprised me with conversations about things like decorating for the baby, taking me to the pharmacy and buying me prenatals. Once, when I sat my phone down and didn’t hear it ring he showed up where I was, saying he was worried that something had happened. I laughed it off and told him that he was already acting like a worried dad. He went out and got a little onesie with his family crest that said “Coming Soon” for his parents. 

I had scheduled my very first appointment for February 18th. It was a Friday when I started spotting. I was worried but a quick google told me that a little spotting was normal but much more and it was a sign of a miscarriage. A rock settled in my stomach that night when I told TJ what was going on. 

“We knew this was a risk, we’ll just wait it out and see what happens.” 

Saturday I was still bleeding and I called the doctor and asked them what they thought. They told me that they couldn’t see me until after the first appointment but if I was really worried I would need to go to the ER. Sunday I was still spotting and I procrastinated, thinking I would go tomorrow if I hadn’t stopped. As I sat at my desk on that Monday, still bleeding I texted TJ and told him that I was going to go to the ER. He told me that he would go with me if I waited until he was off of work. 

Looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t wait. Maybe it’s because I’m used to dealing with my health on my own. Maybe I was afraid that I had waited too long. Mostly, I think I didn’t want to see TJ’s face when the doctor told me that I was in the process of miscarrying. I was convinced that I had done something to make this happen. Maybe it was that I hadn’t quit smoking soon enough. Maybe the universe was telling me that this wasn’t meant to happen for us yet or at all. 

I walked into the emergency room and spoke in hushed tones with the admissions lady. I explained why I was there and they took me back almost immediately. They took my blood and asked me questions like how long I had been bleeding and if I had taken a pregnancy test. The sterile smell of the hospital was making me nauseous. I sat in the room in my paper gown and waited - shaking. 

How was I going to tell TJ about this. I wanted to text my mom and ask her to be there but I hadn’t even told her that we thought we were pregnant for this very reason. The doctor came into the room finally and sat across from me in my paper gown. He was a middle aged man and I don’t really remember what he looked like. 

“So after looking at your blood levels, it doesn’t look like you are pregnant. Your hormone levels don’t show that you’re having a miscarriage because you weren’t pregnant. I’ll let you decide if that’s good or bad news. We’re going to give you a routine pelvic exam and then you’ll be free to get out of here.” 

“OK.” 

I shuffled to the table and let them poke and prod me. It was cold and I couldn’t stop replaying what the doctor said. It was like, because I was there by myself, it was no big deal. Just another girl dodging the pregnancy bullet. I did cry for a few minutes in the silence of the office. Then I told myself that I didn’t want to walk out of the hospital crying. I needed to be somewhere else. I waited in my paper gown to have them take the IV out of my arm. When the nurse came in and took it out I asked her “Is this common?” 

“Oh I don’t have your case I don’t know.” 

“Oh, is having a false positive pregnancy test common” I asked numbly.    

“I’m sorry honey, it’s my first day. I really don’t know.” 

After the IV was out and I made my way to my car I sat in the ER parking lot for about 20 minutes numbly. I think I texted TJ that we’d talk about it when he got off of work. I’m pretty sure I went home and sat in my living room in silence. I might have turned on the TV but to be honest I just sat there and replayed the doctors words in my head over and over again. When I was finished replaying his words I tried to mentally rehearse how I was going to tell TJ that I had let him down. 

What if I couldn’t give him a child? Was this the beginning of the end for us? What had I done wrong? Was I seriously so dumb that I had managed to do a pregnancy test incorrectly? And that little baby onesie was just sitting in my office at home. Staring at me like some kind of beacon of failure. When TJ texted me telling me he was ready to get out of work I drove in silence to get him. I sat at the wheel and gripped it as he climbed in. 

I started driving and as we got on the new circle exit he asked “So are we going to talk about it?” 

Woodenly I told him that I had never been pregnant. And then I told him that I didn’t want to talk about it. What I meant when I said that was that I didn’t want to talk about it with other people. Looking back on that conversation, I can see why he interpreted it as me not wanting to talk to him about it altogether. I told him that he could talk to another person about it. I certainly wasn’t prepared to work through everything that was going through my mind at that moment, much less his feelings. 

“Honestly, I think it would have been worse if you had had a miscarrage. At least we didn’t lose it.” 

I didn’t. I had been mentally preparing for the relatively common miscarraige that one out of three women experience. Not to find out that I never had a child. Not to hear the doctor say he’d let me decide if this was a good or a bad thing. Not to be hit in the face with the fear that I wasn’t going to be able to give TJ something that he wanted so desperately. 

I spent the first week after that doctors appointment glancing at the alcohol in my house thinking that I shouldn’t pick it up at all. I had a gut feeling that once I started, I wasn’t going to be able to stop drinking. I try not to drink when I’m feeling down. Sometimes I succeed and more often I end up crying at the bottom of a bottle. The next week I broke the news to my mom and she was understanding. We both cried. She said I was young and that me and TJ could try again. 

It was around week two that I broke down and started drinking again. Every night for weeks. I’d wake up numb and hungover, go to work, listen to depressing music and go home and do it all over again. There was one Saturday in particular that was pretty bad. It was the weekend after my scheduled first pregnancy appointment. I had cancelled it but I marked it on the calendar all the same. TJ went out to hang with his friends and I sat at the house by myself. I was drinking and depressed. I was lonely. 

That’s the thing that I wasn’t prepared for. I didn’t know how to talk to people about everything that had happened. I didn’t even tell my best friend. I just swirled further down the bottle. I was getting more and more anxious as I drank more. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that there was a gun in our bedroom. Let me pause here, because I know what this sounds like. It sounds like I was thinking about blowing my brains out and being done with everything. 

But that’s not what this was. This was me thinking about it being there. Me thinking about the possibility of getting so drunk that I’d lose all reason and my drunk self would make the decision for me. I didn’t want to die. If only because the thought of how it would hurt everyone around me. That being said, the more I thought about that gun I decided that I needed someone here with me. 

I texted my best friend Becki and asked her if she’d come over and keep me company. That I was lonely and sloshed. Looking for someone to pass the time. Looking back, I’m glad that I did. She came over and we talked about everything except what I should have talked about. Movies, television, books. Those are easy things to talk about. Losing a pregnancy that I never had, that was something infinitely more difficult. 

February and March were difficult months. I was at an all time high consumption of bourbon. The first week of April TJ and I got into one of our bigger arguments. We both got drunk and ended up yelling at each other. Him about how I was always drinking and wasn’t talking to him about the no baby thing. Me about how I thought he was going to leave me because I couldn’t even get pregnant. 

“Do you really think that I would leave you if you can’t give me a baby?” 

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s what you want more than anything. Why stay with someone who can’t give you that? I’m fucking useless.” 

“Babe, I’m not going to leave you. I love you and I’m tired of you saying I’m going to leave. I’m not.” 

On April 13th we both woke up and shuffled around each other. Offering apologies and me promising that I’d try to communicate better. Surprisingly, the fight had left me feeling lighter. Like for the first time in months, things might start to turn the corner for us. Maybe the timing hadn’t been right for us to start a family. But we could keep trying. Through the haze of the last few months I had learned that it wasn’t unusual for pregnancy to take up to eighteen months to happen when you’ve been on birth control as long as I had been. It didn’t change what had happened, but gave me a little hope that my body wasn’t defective. 

“You wanna go out today and see a movie or go ride? Just get out of the house today? I think we could both use it?” TJ asked. 

Part 1

They say that bad things come in three’s, but I think that might just be our way of hoping that once three really bad things happen, we’re through the woods and there are better things coming our way. Unfortunately, life very rarely sends us divine signs that things will get better or worse - and if you think on your own life hard enough, you might be tempted to string a series of three events together that don’t bode well and say; the worst is over. That’s probably it. 

This story starts on a Saturday at the end of October of 2018. My husband TJ and I had just traveled back from Orlando Florida for his older brothers wedding and we had worked the obligatory first week back at work post-vacation. Like most weeks it had stretched on endlessly and I had woken every day praying for the weekend. TJ had fallen asleep the night before on the couch and had left for work that Saturday without waking me. This meant that I had slept by myself, stretching in the bed with the dogs and had turned my alarm off. I had made plans to do nothing except lay around with the fur babies and maybe go grab some lunch if I felt like getting out of the house.

 You know that saying about making plans right? “Make plans and God laughs?” I don’t particularly believe in those types of things, but in this case I might make an exception. 

The sun was barely peeking through the bedroom curtains when my phone started ringing. I leaned over the bed and looked at the time. Eight in the morning and my mother in law was calling. I groaned and let it ring. I’d call her back when I got out of bed. Maybe in an hour. She’s a morning person who, if I’m being honest, I can imagine shitting rainbows first thing no matter the weather or life circumstance. I, on the other hand, need coffee or tea and generally no social interaction for at least an hour when I wake up in the morning. 

The phone stopped ringing for a few seconds and I let out a sigh of relief. Then it started ringing again. This time I let out a sigh of resignation. If you know me well, you know that the best way to reach me if it’s an emergency is to call back-to-back like this. The last time she called like this, they thought TJ’s sister had been kidnapped, but that’s another story altogether. I picked up the phone and my stomach dropped. 

Groggily I answered, “Hey Mom, whats up?”

“Hey honey,” her tone was not cheerful. In fact it was shaking, like she had been crying, “ Dad and I can’t get a hold of TJ and we’ve tried a couple of times. Listen, I don’t want to alarm you but TJ’s grandpop in Philly has been in an accident.” 

Well. Now I was awake. Who needs coffee right? “Oh no, Mom what’s going on? “ 

“Well, last night he went to walk into the garage and he fell down the steps. They’ve admitted him into the hospital and he’s in a coma. He’s got a brain bleed and they’re not sure how long he’s got.” 

I sat up in the bed and threw the covers off of me. “OK mom. Let me go get TJ. We’ll be there. I’ve just got to see what the cost of a plane ticket will be or if we’re going to drive. TJ’s at work and I’ve got to call mom and see if she’ll watch the dogs.” 

“Honey are you sure?  You guys don’t have to do that.” 

“No mom, TJ will want to be there. I want to be there. We’ll make it work. Are you guys flying down?” 

“Yeah, Tom is talking to the airports now to see about going out tonight and I’m packing now.” 

“OK Mom. I love you. I’m going to get off of here. I’ve got to get dressed and go get TJ. “ 

“OK honey. Just let us know. I love you.” 

I hung the phone up and stumbled through the hall, letting the dogs into the back yard. I opened my contacts and called my little brother.

“Hey sissy.” 

“Hey bubby, I need a favor, can you get on your computer and see if you can find me and TJ a cheap flight to Philadelphia PA? It’s an emergency and something is going on with his grandpa.” 

“Yeah let me see” he paused and I could hear him clicking in the background, “It looks like around $800. “ 

“OK, that’s probably not an option, we’re probably going to have to drive. I love you, I’ve got to talk to mom, but I might need you to come stay with the dogs while we’re there. Would that be okay? “ 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“Okay bubby, thank you, I love you. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Love you too sissy.” 

I hung up again and let the dogs back in. My heart was pounding and I hopped in the shower trying to think about how I was going to tell TJ. He was going to be devastated. He hadn’t had a chance to see his grandpa since we’d been together some eight years. We’d always planned to make a trip to visit so that I could meet them. Life has a funny way of always making you put off the things you really shouldn’t. Like family. 

As I dried myself off and threw on clothes, I knew this was going to be hard for him. I knew that I would have to be extra strong for this. I don’t do well when people around me are upset. When someone I care about cries, I can’t help it. I cry too. I took a few breaths and gave myself a few moments to cry and then told myself that I was going to put those feelings in a box and deal with them later. 

I grabbed my keys and drove to Tire Discounters, where he worked. There was a line at the counter of people when I walked in. It was rainy and I wondered but was thankful that he had chosen to ride his motorcycle to work today. He looked at me from across the counter and gave me a questioning smile and I shook my head. I gestured for him to finish what he was doing and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. I stood at the back of the showroom and my stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. He finished talking to his customer and I walked out front of the shop. 

“What’s going on babe?” 

“I need you to go to your boss and tell him you’re leaving. Trust me, we need to leave now.” 

“Babe, what’s going on?” he said, and he grabbed my hands trying to intuit what’s wrong.

“Babe, your grandpa has been in an accident, and we need to make a trip to PA right now. They’re not sure how long he has. Your mom already tried to call you and couldn’t get a hold of you.” 

His face paled and he said, “Yeah my phone was dead, it’s been on the charger.”

“We can talk about it more when you’re off the clock babe, please, go let them know that we’ve got to go. Now.” 

“Okay babe.” and he turned and walked back into the shop. I stood out front and waited. Anxious. Shortly later he walked back out to me. 

“I’m going to ride my bike back to the house with you” 

“Babe I don’t think that’s a great idea, I don’t think you should be riding in your condition.” 

“No i’ll be fine. I’ll be careful, you can follow me.” 

My stomach was turning and I could tell he wasn’t going to listen to me. There really was no point in arguing with him when he got like this. Besides, I didn’t want to argue with him and make it worse. 

“Okay babe if you’re sure.” 

I got in the car and pulled it around back. Shortly later he walked up to the drivers side window and said “The guys won’t let me ride the bike. I gave them the keys and they’re going to pull it into the garage while we’re out.” 

“Okay babe that’s fine. Let’s get out of here. We need to pack.” 

“ So, what’s going on?” 

And I told him about the brain bleed and his grandpa. As the minutes went on he got quieter and paler. “I already looked at flights and it’s going to be way too expensive to fly. It’s about a thirteen hour drive. I’ve already let your mom know that we’re going to be there. I already talked to Trev a bit about watching the dogs. I want to talk to mom and fill her in. “ 

After that we drove in silence and got back to the house. We packed in a flurry of motion and I crossed my fingers that I had everything we would need. I kissed my dogs goodbye and we drove to my mom’s job at Meijer. Sometimes, its easier to explain things in person. As I knew she would, she said she’d take care of our dogs and make sure everything was fine. She made me promise to call when we got there and to keep her updated. 

We filled up the gas tank and got on the road. It was the longest thirteen hours of my life. TJ insisted that he would drive because he needed something else to focus on. We talked about everything except the fact that his grandpa was on a ticking clock. 

“So, “ I said as we waited in traffic, “ you know what we should probably talk about?” 

“No, what” 

“The fact that I could just … stop taking my birth control and we could start trying to have a family together.” 

He paused for a moment giving me the first grin i’d gotten from him in around five hours, “Someone very smart once told me that she didn’t like making big life decisions in moments of tragedy.” 

“Well, whoever she is, she sounds like a smart lady.” 

“One of the reasons I married you dear.” 

We learned that when his grandpa fell his brain got squished about two inches to one side and he was looking at a life of being kept on the ventilator permanently if he regained consciousness, which was unlikely.  His grandma and grandpa had been together for something like fifty years. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose someone that crucial to me after a long life together. 

Finally, after what may have been the longest road trip of my life, we made it to the hospital. His parents had called us as they touched down at the airport. We sat in the parking lot for a moment and I grabbed TJ’s hand and squeezed. 

“I’m here babe. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I know you are. But I don’t know what I need.” 

We got out of the car and his parents met us in the lobby. It struck me in that moment how similar they looked standing side by side. His mom rushed forward and gave us both tight hugs. I could tell she had been crying and she was torn between the excitement of getting to see us much sooner than expected and the bad situation we were here for. We all huddled in the elevator together in silence. The smell of hospitals has always made my stomach turn and this time was no exception. I know they’re clean but it’s like right under the surface all that grossness is being masked by the smell of antiseptic. 

TJ gripped my hand tighter as we entered the hospital room and pushed the divider curtain to the side. His aunt and grandma were sitting on each side of the old man. Tubes were shoved down his throat and I could see his yellowing teeth. The constant beeping of his heart monitor beeped out of time to the weirdly loud click-click-click of the clock on the wall. His face was spotted and sagging and his head was taped where I assume the doctors shaved his head. All I knew really was that TJ had let go of my hand and was grasping his grandma tightly. I was next. I hugged her and through strangled sobs she said, “It’s so nice to finally meet you dear. I just wish it was sooner.” 

“Me too.” 

I was at a loss. What do you say to someone who’s in the process of losing the most important part of their life? Especially when you’re meeting them for the first time. We all sat around and his grandma clutched the rosary in between her hands and her husband. It’s at this moment that I realize that even though I grew up raised every other weekend as a Catholic, I didn’t have a clue about this part. When finally all the grandkids and children show up that grandma made the hardest decision. That she was going to remove her husband from life support. That we would all sit with him in his last moments as he passed from this place to the next. 

The doctors said that he could die right then or it could take hours and some people fight for days. At some point TJ’s parents pull us out of the room and tell us that we don’t have to stay for this part. That we don’t know how long this will take. I tell them that we’re going to be here as long as we can and as long as we’re needed. They protest and I stay firm. Finally TJ tells them that it’s important to him that he’s here and we’re staying and they don’t argue anymore. 

When the doctors start turning off the ventilator it gets even more quiet for a brief moment. Then grandpa starts making this rattling noise deep in his chest. It sounds like his lungs are slowly filling as he’s trying to breathe. It’s a wet rattling sound that, when combined with the shaky recitation of “Hail Mary” and the wailing of his grandma, gives me the chills. It sounds morbid, but in that moment I pictured myself fifty years down the line, sobbing over TJ’s body. TJ’s grandpa hung on for several hours. We all waited and sniffled until the heart monitor made the sound that we were all waiting for and simultaneously dreading.  You know the one. If this were a television show, you’d see nurses running in at the sound of the flat line and rushing everyone out of the room. But this wasn’t a television show. After a few moments - a nurse came in and shut the rest of the machines off in silence. 

We ended up staying in PA for a week because his grandpa hadn’t made any arrangements in the event of his death. This meant that we watched in silence as his grandma dealt with her mortality by choosing things like plots and stones and hymns. For the sake of this stories expediency I’m going to skip the funeral and the week that led up to it. It was lovely and sad. All you really need to know is that I spent the week trying to find interesting distracting things to do for TJ and I. 

Fast forward to two weeks into November of 2018. I am getting back to work again. It’s a Monday morning and I look down and notice that I have accidentally taken the first two weeks of my birth control backwards. Some quick Googling tells me that I need to get a new pack immediately and start over and make sure to wear protection for the next few weeks to be safe. I walk into the bedroom with TJ and sit down next to him as he ties his shoes. 

“Well funny story.” 

“What’s up?” he responds  groggily. 

“Well, it’s funny, because I accidentally took my birth control backwards and I wanted to let you know. At this point I can either go try to get a new pack or I can stop taking it altogether and we can see what happens. I know we’ve had a lot going on but I really haven’t changed my mind about being ready to start a family with you.” 

He leaned against me and gave me a slow groggy smile. “Me either. I’m ready to start that part of our life too.” 

This year has been given me the some of my highest highs and lowest lows. As part of my recovery process I want to begin the process of documenting my experience. I’m going to be honest. A lot of this has made me cry. 

Ultimately I’m left with these experiences bottled up and I think the best way for me to make it through the haze of PTSD and depression is to share these experiences; even under the guise of internet anonymity. It’s hard to talk to the people who care about me because I hate dumping all my negative onto people. There ultimately never seems like a good time to do it.