Weighty Issues

I started writing this post like a letter to a childhood crush. Write words, erase them, write them more "casually," erase them, write them honestly, erase them.

I had a miscarriage. There you have it.

The thing of it is, it's a very abstract experience. It happens to so many women and almost everyone you know will tell you it's happened to someone they know. It feels like a death, but not with something you're connected with enough to grieve it like one. It feels confusing and embarrassing and leaves you so mystified about life, in general. At the same time, it's one of those things that changes a new marriage - if you're lucky, for the better.

Unfortunately, 3 months of pregnancy followed by a solid month of emotional eating and drinking does not a skinny girl make. This will not be a sleeveless summer. It's enough weight for me to notice (and likely the very smart husband who has been rendered mute on the topic), but others seem unsure. See, I announced the pregnancy to everyone I knew shortly after we found out, much to the husband's dismay. Boss, coworkers, old friends, new friends, homeless people, our doorman. Our doorman, who when told, responded with, "You pregnant? Jennifer Hudson's pregnant." Alrighty. Guess we don't have to pick up our People Magazine this week, then.

Today, I ran into that doorman while leaving the building.

He scanned my body and said, "So..how you doin' Meg?"
Translation: "You sho' don't look pregnant. You look kinda fat, but not pregnant. You seen Jennifer Hudson lately? Now she look pregnant."

I explained that we were no longer pregnant but are hopeful to be someday again and contemplated jumping through the glass door if he didn't open it for me to escape soon. I anticipated his sympathetic, warm response and got the following.

"Yeah, uh, well my 4th wife wanted kids and I was like, I ain't givin' you no DAMN kids. So then she got a dog and I was like, I ain't pickin' up no HOT POOP. So don't you worry Meg, you just enjoy life as you have it - all that stuff is crazy."

So, next time something devastating happens, don't seek therapy. Don't practice yoga each morning to try to find inner calm. Just visit my doorman and become enlightened on how much better your life is because it isn't filled with damn kids and hot poop.

For some reason, I can't stop eating today.