I learned something yesterday. Something I already knew, but seem to forget. I learned that it can be really rewarding to tell a truth. I am not talking about the truth, that elusive, Platonic thing we are all implored to tell when we are little. I am talking about the smaller kind of truth. The littler things. The littler truths that add up to be quite big.
I think many of us are interested in sharing things about ourselves – happy things, hard things. But I also think that many of us don’t really have a ready opportunity to do this. I think we motor through our days indulging only in snippets of conversation with those we encounter and there is rarely time to really look each other in the eye and say meaningful things. I think this is reality. And I also think it is a shame. Because I think we have things to say, truths to tell.
And so. Though it caused me considerable anxiety to do so, an ineffable and illuminating anxiety I still need to examine, I was so genuinely happy I published my words yesterday. Yes, they were raw. Perhaps too raw. But they were very real and very much mine and it struck me during the course of the day as all of your amazing comments rolled in, that it is a huge privilege to be able to come here day after day to write words, and say things. True things. Because, again, we do not always have this chance; to utter things that are true, things that we are thinking about, things that matter. I do not take any of this for granted; that I have this cozy corner to come to, that I have all of you.
And today is another one. Another day. Another chance to tell a truth. And my truth today is another hard one, another one that makes me feel a bit vulnerable, shaky, soft. But I learned yesterday that I should go for it (and maybe we all should?). That I should say what I have to say, tell that story, that truth, and that there will be people, real people, out there to read, to nod, to say something: Me too.
Today’s truth: I had a miscarriage seven years ago today. And it broke my heart.
Earlier this week, I hunkered down at a Starbucks and wrote and wrote about this loss. I’ve written about my miscarriage on this blog – here and here – but this time was different somehow. This time, I really let myself travel back and relive the event. I wrote and wrote and wrote, losing myself, losing the world around me. I hope to share these words with you very soon. But for today, I just wanted to come here and say something I think we all know but too often disregard: It is pure good to tell a truth. And it is pure good to have that truth heard.
Thank you all for making me feel seen, heard, happy, and far less alone. At the end of the day, isn’t this what we all want?
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Now it’s your turn. Tell a truth. It can be big or small. Happy or hard. Ugly or beautiful. Be anonymous or attach your name. Tell a truth and I promise to respond.
Little truths? I really need 8 hours of sleep. I found the earthquake vaguely thrilling, though the metaphors in the aftermath write themselves: do I simply trust the ground will be steady now? How? I don’t know if I love Mary Oliver’s new book as much as her older work.
Larger truth? I am swamped right now by memories of 10 years ago right now, when I was on the verge of entering into a severe episode of PPD precipitated by my daughter’s arrival and into the only life I can really remember (that of a mother). I’m genuinely sorrowful about her turning 10, which I feel ashamed about. Shouldn’t I be celebrating? I mean, I am, but it’s not that simple. It never is for me.
xox
You know what’s interesting (to me at least)? That I find your “little truths” and “larger truth” almost equally compelling. Really. I think all of us are made up of tiny details and large truths and they all conspire to make us who we are, right?
I am struck by what you say about memory. Isn’t it truly remarkable and unsettling how vivid and gripping memories can be? How that can linger in our unconscious mind and rise up at certain times? This is what happened to me the other day at Starbucks. I hadn’t thought about my miscarriage in months, but then BAM I remembered the date and all of these sharp images hit me. I think you would agree that having these memories can be hard and disorienting, but they serve an important purpose, right? I would rather have them than not even though it is not easy. Easy is not always the goal, huh?
Easier said than done, but try to let go of the “shoulds” that buffet you now around Grace’s 10th. In some interesting way, you are indeed celebrating by going back and feeling everything. I’ve said it before but she (and your sweet boy) are so privileged to have such a thoughtful mom.
Thanks, you. xo
A truth: I am not sure I am with the right person. Actually I’m pretty sure I’m with the wrong one.
Thank you for sharing this. I am sure so many people can relate to this situation or feel something similar about another aspect of their life. How many of us are stuck in jobs we don’t like? How many of us are more exhausted than elated by parenting? How many of us don’t love where we live? The list goes on and I think there is power in just saying these things – even if only anonymously on a blog.
I have always wanted to be a teacher. Now, I am in my first full year of teaching (in a field that was not what I originally imagined) and I am scared that I am going to lose myself and become too immersed in my job.
Like you, that is the simple truth. There is so much more underneath this truth. And maybe I need to explore it (I guess I did a little bit in a recent blog post of my own) more. And I will explore it more.
Because, another truth. Sometimes I think that teachers get the raw end of the deal (when everyone thinks we have it so easy).
There are always things to explore, always, and there should be, but how wonderful that you are finally pursuing your dream. As for the teacher thing, now that my girls are truly beginning their education, I find myself really amazed and awed by teachers and appreciative of them. What a profound responsibility to teach a young person how to learn, how to love learning. My big sister is a teacher and is very good at what she does. I think that now that my biggest is in K, I am realizing how incredible and incredibly important her work is. I must tell her this.
And for what it’s worth I know that you do not have it easy as a teacher. Far far from it.
Thanks for these words, Elise.
I’m on the verge of getting engaged. We went to look at rings last week. I’m so excited but really scared, too. In my late twenties, I still live at home — and I know that’s probably weird/silly to some, but I’m really close to my family and it hasn’t bothered me. (Plus, I’ve saved a lot of money. Money I’ll be needing soon, it sounds like.)
The truth is that I’m afraid I’m going to feel unbelievably sad when I move in with my guy. Not because I’m with the wrong person — I’m very in love with him — but probably because the knowledge of “that time” in my life (where I’m home with my parents and siblings) is over. The truth is that I’m also afraid to tell anyone that… mostly because I fear their judgment. It’s already weird enough that I’ve never lived away from home (not even for college). The truth is also that I feel I am weird for being so nervous about this step.
I’m thinking maybe this is just a fear of “officially” becoming an adult… versus the half-adult I’ve been since graduating college. I don’t know. But sometimes it keeps me up at night.
This is so so exciting but I also totally understand the fear and anticipatory sadness. As someone who has a very hard time growing up, I completely get this. I think it is so wonderful that you are so close with your family and there are so many people who would kill for this situation. My hunch is that you will move in, and, yes, move on, and you will shed some happy/sad/cathartic tears and you will swiftly sink into your new life with your guy. Sometimes, I think the anticipation of these transitions is often worse than the transitions themselves.
And I don’t think you are weird at all for being nervous about this step. Oddly, I wasn’t nervous or anxious at all about getting engaged, and married. Yes, I think this had a lot to do with my confidence in the guy I was committing too, but also I didn’t really think too much about it. I just dove in. In retrospect, a very un-ADR thing to do.
Ultimately, I think you are a thinker and a questioner. And as a fellow member of this thinking/questioning species, I think this is only a good thing. But clearly I am a wee bit biased
Thanks for sharing this, M.
A truth? I don’t want to practice law anymore. I want to write, and I want to stay home with my kids when the time comes. Another truth? Finally understanding about 6 months ago that this is what I want shocked me speechless.
Wow. For obvious reasons, this makes me smile
We need to get that long overdue frozen yogurt and discuss. Isn’t it amazing and kind of unsettling too when you see so clearly what you want??
My mom died unexpectedly 6 weeks ago. She was only 65 years old and had so much living yet to do. Her death has been the most devastating loss I have ever known. When people ask how I am doing, I respond with “OK” or “fine”, or something along the lines of “I’m hanging in there…” The truth? The truth is I am none of those things. I am really struggling and overwhelmed with sadness. I keep thinking that if I say that I am OK, maybe I will be. I try to put on a strong front so people do not worry about me. I put on a happy face for my kids. At work I act like I am focused and present when I am not. Every day, I feel like I am putting on an act so people think I am OK, when the reality is, I am far from it.
I am so so sorry, Mandy. I know from experience that there are no right or perfect words to say in this situation, but I am truly sorry that you are dealing with this, and suffering a grief I myself have glimpsed. It is totally normal and understandable that you are not doing okay right now. On some level, how could you be? When my dad died, I was pregnant and my therapist at the time told me that the pregnancy hormones were actually protecting me from the full weight of the loss. She said that it would probably all hit me later, that my acute grieving would probably be delayed. And she was right. Five months after my baby arrived, I realized suddenly that I was totally lost and sad and not alright. That’s when I started this blog, actually. I think I needed a place to come and write words and ask questions and celebrate the good things and process my grief.
I am honestly honored that you decided to share this here today. Please email me if you’d like. I would be happy to chat.
I am having a baby in 8 weeks. A baby I decided to have on my own because even though I love my life, I knew I would regret not trying. So now that I’m finally almost there, the truth is I’m scared. I’m scared that something will go wrong, that the baby will have problems, won’t be a good person, will not be kind, will end up being ‘that kid’ that other parents complain about and don’t let their children play with. i am scared that if this is the case, I won’t be able to rise to the challenge, that I’ll regret having a baby. Most of all, the truth is that I hate having these thoughts to begin with, because this baby is the product of much trying and anticipation and excitement–so most days I try to put it out of my mind and hope for the best and embrace the moment…and forget about the lingering fear.
Please know something: These fears are so so normal. The anticipation of new life is utterly profound and I think the excitement and hormones and abiding desire to have a healthy kid and be a good parent when the time comes make us understandably anxious and fearful. Those eight weeks will pass and your little creature will arrive and you will figure it out and be great. And, from there, you will take it step by step. I know it seems so daunting – and, really, it is – but you are capable of doing it. Try to focus on all the fun and exciting bits – the little booties and hats and the thought of having the sweetest little snuggle buddy. So excited for you, s.
I hate cooking. It’s unfortunate, because my mom is an amazing cook. She’d come home from a full day of work, pull Gourmet magazines off the shelf (she kept all of them) and would cook us a meal. Sure, we ate at 8-9pm growing up, but it was so worth it. And now, I do the bare minimum to get by. I feel guilty, because I know I can be a better cook (and when I put in effort, it definitely shows), but I’d rather hang out with my husband/son instead of being tied to the stove.
Wow. I could have written this. Growing up, my mom cooked a lot and she is a wonderful cook. And me? I am, well, not a cook. I tell myself that if I tried, I could do it and do it decently and still believe that I one day will do this, but so far? So far we are all about takeout and healthy meals thrown together from grocery items. And for what it’s worth I don’t think there is anything wrong at all about prioritizing time with your loved ones over time in the kitchen. Words for you and for me
Truth: Being a mother is much, much harder than I expected, and I am a much more selfish person than I thought I was. Another truth: I’m doing a damn good job.
Oh how I love this. Yes, it is hard work parenting these little people. Often impossible work. And how cool that you say you are doing a good job. I am sure you are and we are all so sheepish about admitting our successes in this department. I have been pondering a post about this, about how we should be freer with our praise for ourselves as parents. Thanks for chiming in today.
I sometimes wish I hadn’t had children. I have two sons, one 26 and one 23. It is so hard seeing them struggling with adulthood. It is like reliving those years all over again, and while I had good times, it also was hard and not something I enjoy reliving. Also, I’ve come to realize that children are born with personalities and nurture has very little influence over their outcome. We can teach them to be polite, but that’s about it. And they don’t always become the people we would like them to be.
I so appreciate your honesty here. I can’t even imagine having adult children. I can only imagine it must be hard and heartbreaking to see that struggle and to feel yourself not liking aspects of your own children. And I am intrigued by the concept that kids are born with personalities. I’ve long believed that everyone is a product of an elusive combination of nature and nurture.
I think I have an issue with jealousy. I find myself being happy for people but immediately a tinge of jealousy is associated with it…jealous someone gets to have a wedding (I am already married and that time has passed); jealous a friend just had a new baby because all the attention is back on her; jealous when people have good fortune in life. And I hate that. I am trying to work on it. Trying really hard. I actually sometimes think facebook has a way of making this worse but that’s a whole ‘nother topic….but I have limited my facebook time sometimes because of this. But the truth is as much as I am overly excited for my friends, deep down I feel this immediate ting of jealousy and it seems to get me just about everytime. Another truth is I really want to change and overcome it. Not sure how though.
Sidenote- I didn’t stop by yesterday but just read your post. 9 months is amazing and I have loved reading and experiencing this journey with you! I think you are inspiring and you’ve become a bit of a role model for me throughout this blog and your experiences…and one more final truth…I hope to meet you in person one day!
Thanks, AG. I think that so many people would be able to relate to your truth here. I know I can. I think it is human nature to feel envy from time to time, but I think we all need to figure out how to control our envy, how to keep it circumscribed and at healthy levels. I am not sure how exactly to do this. I do know that when I am really happy with myself and my life I feel envy a lot less. I guess this makes sense? Please know that I so so appreciate your kind words about me and the blog!
I have not been on your blog for awhile and as always I have returned to find such great words. I read your piece in the Huffington and wow!
My truth is related to where I now live. I moved to NYC five years ago and loved it! Now I have moved back to London and so wish I had not, but I need to stay for a few years due to my children going to college and University. I have not said that to anyone I don’t want to upset my family.
Thanks for this, Angela. I think most of us have things we feel but don’t say because we are worried about upsetting those around us. I think this is normal, but it is good to be able to say it, right?
Thanks so much for your kind words re: my HuffPost piece. Feel free to share it!
One of the things I love most about blogging is that it gives us the chance to tell our truths. Thank you for sharing yours and for giving others a space to share theirs today. xo
Yes, this is by far my favorite part of blogging – the truth-telling. I am trying to change things up a bit here to encourage some real truth-telling and story-sharing. So far, so good
xo
Reading the truths above is amazing. Great book fodder
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First, I loved your post yesterday. I am so proud of you and so moved by your words and your openness. I can’t recall whether you said it in the post or in the one you linked to the day you had little girl, but your words to the effect that “I’ll never feel life growing inside me again” have haunted me. While I only love being pregnant in a very romanticized way, and more generally would fast forward to most of pregnancy to get the baby if I could, it’s oddly something that never dawned on me. Like you, my husband and I have decided we are done having kids. And really I am at peace with it, 98% at peace if that is at peace. Pretty good for me. But there is so much that hasn’t occurred to me about that finality. Obvious things – like no more babies means no more kicks in my belly. And even though I am 98% okay being done, that makes me really, really sad. My baby boy just turned one on Friday. It is a bittersweet time. It’s not a stunning truth but it is the truth I have for today. I wonder when I will be 100% okay with being done. Maybe never. But I truly feel so incredibly blessed with the family I have. That brings me peace with our decision. But still, 100% would be nice.
Oh, Jess. Relate to so so much of this. And so interesting because I am in the middle of drafting a post about being finished having kids and how we can know we are finished, but still not feel finished. I am not sure I will ever be 100% fine with being finished. Sounds like you are in the same camp. Bittersweet is the perfect word. Happy belated birthday to your sweet little guy. He was an itty-bitty thing when I met him last November. Time flies! xox
Wow. Powerful post again! My truth is that I struggle with anxiety. I have always denied this or called it “stress” but really, it keeps me up a lot and it probably isn’t normal. This September, I told myself I would really look into this aspect of myself and see if something needed healing or if maybe I needed to see a doctor or therapist. So much shame around this!! I teach yoga and practice yoga 5 times a week. I think I believe that on some level, yoga should “fix” me, dammit, and that if I was a real yogi, I wouldn’t have any struggles. Sadly, this is not the case.
Anxiety. On some level, it has always been a part of my life, a part of me. But then after Little Girl arrived I felt more of it and it no longer felt okay and I talked with someone. Not sure if you read my post about it, but happy to provide the link if not. Anyway, so good of you to wonder about this. A profound first step, I think, in figuring it all out. Not that we can really ever figure it all out
I find I hold onto a lot of guilt and pain… and memories (like most humans tend to), but this runs in my family. I’m still working on letting go of things in my past. I stopped drinking a while back and it has forced me to deal with these emotions and hardships. But I know I will become a better person for it. Thanks for being so honest and sincere. Reading your blog is like reading my own thoughts
xo
Wow. Thanks so much, Abby. Your honesty is really wonderful. Isn’t it really amazing how not drinking forces us to confront things we once escaped from? And holding on to guilt and pain? I think this is a very human thing to do and we all do it to some extent. How to let go? Now isn’t that the ultimate question? I do hope you return and leave more words as they add much to the conversation.
I’m insecure. I feel insecure about my relationship with my bf. Sometimes I don’t know why I feel insecure. My bf loves me so much, and treats me so well. But I feel like there’s a demon in the back of my mind that always tells me that he’ll cheat on me, or he’ll leave me one dya. Or that maybe I’m not good enough for him? Why do I feel so insecure? I have such a great loving family and friends. I wish that I can stop being insecure and just enjoy life. I’ve been dealing with this insecurity for years now. We talked about marriage and our future together, but he’s waiting for me to completely trust him before we take the next time. Am I ever going to be secure? Will I ever be normal?
This blog was originally called Ivy League Insecurities… So, I get this. I understand having doubts, feeling insecure. I honestly believe that insecurity, as long as it is circumscribed and does not reign, can be a good thing. I think it keeps us real. I think the goal for all of us is not to be secure as in totally secure and confident and sure, but more secure, right? And I don’t believe in normal.
Thank you so much for this, JT. Now you have me pondering a future post on insecurity and trust in relationships!
Thank you Aidan! You’re very inspiring. I can relate so much to your blog. Although I don’t have kids yet…or married, I feel like we connect.
And yes, please do write about relationship & trust. I would love to read about that!
I have followed your blog since the beginning…and have posted before, but not too often. I always feel the need when you talk about your miscarriage though, because so many of us have been through what you went through.
I too, have suffered a miscarriage. Make that two miscarriages. It sucked. My husband and I started trying to get pregnant in August 2006 after he finished graduate school and I had recovered from a broken back (long story short…boating accident, December 24, 2005, The Big Island, Hawaii). It took a bit, about seven months, but lo and behold I was pregnant. The due date was December 25, 2007! How exciting, a Christmas baby. My birthday is the 28th of December so I could totally relate to a Christmas baby. Went to the doctor for a routine exam at 10 weeks and found out via ultrasound that there was no heartbeat and no growth since about week 8. I was alone a the doctor’s office and I have never felt more alone than that day. I took medication to induce the miscarriage and went to a couple of follow up appointments. I was sad, but didn’t lose hope, we would get pregnant rather quickly again.
Thirteen long and emotional months later, right before we had scheduled a laparoscopy to see what was going on with my girl parts, I was pregnant again! Hooray! Celebration! Due on March 30, 2009 – my parent’s 41st wedding anniversary. I went to the doctor at 8 weeks, no heartbeat. This time I opted for surgery. It was a little girl.
We now had a plan, when I got pregnant again (because we knew I could get pregnant), I would go on progesterone, baby aspirin and continue my prenatal vitamin routine and this time this baby would make it. I quickly got pregnant the third go-round. I found out via home test on January 2, 2009 that I was pregnant again. I think I took about five tests before I called the doctor. Started the medicine after her office opened up after the New Year holiday, and my due date this time was September 9, 2009. 9.9.2009 – how cool! This little guy made it. He loved my belly so much that he stayed in until the wee hours of September 17, 2009 (41 weeks 1 day). A little boy – C is three now and entertains us all the time.
I am happy to say that I am now pregnant for the fourth time with a little girl. I am due February 23, 2013. This due date is not significant. Feeling her kick in my belly is the most joyful feeling in the world. This will be my last – as my doctor’s partner told me that I am of advanced maternal age – I’ll be 37 when she is born! But I am enjoying and documenting every step of this pregnancy. When we told C he was going to have a little sister his first question was her name. We told her that he could name her while she was in my belly…the chosen name, “Pumpkin Puppy.” We can’t wait to meet her.
Himy name is sofia, ihave a story to write its just so painful cannot put pen to papper, id like to share it with you someday,