I Am Ready. Yes.

I was 22. Young. Naive. I didn’t know anything of miscarriages, stillbirths. Any of it. I just knew that in life you got pregnant and then had a kid. I was taken by surprise when I was informed that my baby had issues that needed to be investigated further, They called my work number. MY WORK NUMBER! The call that prompted me to say, “Thank you for calling The Little Gym, this is Maria how can I help you!?”  That connotation makes me gag. Not because it feels fake or that I was suffering a terrible time. But because my duty at work was always much more than that. As a teacher it was more than any of that.

Aryn shaped me. I am not the best mother because of him. I am not the best wife either. I am me. And Aryn afforded me the opportunity to enjoy that...knowing there are people who cannot.

No one convinced me to hold him. Here I was...scared...lost...abandoned...and childless and no one thought to say to me, “Hey, you will not get another chance...hold your baby. Hold him tight”. Nope. All I was left to doing was viewing my son in a tupperware while everyone around me cried saying it was for the best.

22.  That is too young to realize the importance of life and death, if you ask me. I just learned I could drink without an adult….that I WAS the adult...that I could be the best wife I wanted to be. But God had different plans. He decided that this was necessary.

Life has had many ups and downs since Aryn. Adam and I are still happily married. I’m writing this in my kitchen as I look over at him sitting in our living room, winding down from yet another exhausting day. Day in, day out, I know I can always look up and see him there. Friends come and go, and sadly, even children will come and go. But your spouse is with you forever. I find such comfort in that. We chose each other.

It has been 10 years since I was in the hospital doing the impossible. So many memories float by as I reflect on a decade of realization.

I reflect on the idea that our life isn’t how we thought it would be. I never envisioned what 32-year-old-me would be doing...yet here I am. Living.

I reflect on the idea that mourning the death of a child is hard. Not wished upon anyone. It sucks. The timing of it all sucked. Fall was my favorite time of year...and now...it is tainted with the memory of Aryn….and my mom.

I feel as though I am babbling on in this post. Delaying the inevitable.  Again, something I wish I could have done 10 years ago. The inevitable this time? The stories I didn’t tell the first time around with this blog. I call this “Walk with Me” so I know I need to share it all.  And sadly, it has taken me 10 years to get to this place of comfort to finally do it.

I am ready.