In the rain that morning I considered what I would eventually say about the whole thing.
An adult in charge of her destiny, there was suddenly the absence of the expected. Afraid for more reasons than I could even count, I had to know. I put it off as long as I could somehow getting through the days at work, with the sense that everything was about to change.
I had walked the streets of Tokyo with a heaviness in my breasts and an a hunger that no bowl of rice could sate. I came home expecting to bask in the glow of vacation for weeks and instead was plunged into fear and loss…. and now memories of Tokyo are shadowed by the memories of pain and cramps and an moving shadow on the ultrasound. We clung to one another and cried even though inwardly we both were secretly relieved. A miscarriage is so much easier to talk about in the long run. It took me almost a year but I can say the words out loud. And this time there is no guilt. This time there is no ghost.
This morning I got out of bed at ten after five, having realized that there would be no sleep until there was an answer.
Then I sat on the couch waiting for the courage to take a test I wanted to fail.