October 11, 2013
Sofia would have been four weeks old today. I’d say I survived one month without her, but that’s too melancholy. I’ve lived. I’ve cried a lot, but I’ve laughed a lot, too. And while I think of her often, I do not think of her constantly. I think of her most when something happens or comes up in discussion (or just in my brain) that I wish I could share with her. Like realizing I’ll never get to watch her watch The Princess Bride for the first time. So it will be a while before I can watch it again myself. Or I throw my arm up over my head while I’m lying on my back and realize that we’ll never know if she would have slept with her arm over her face, her favorite position in utero.
And, yes, I thought of her today. I deposited checks I’ve received from friends and family, donations that they wished me to spend as I see fit, gifts sent with the specific request that I use it for funeral expenses. And then my mom and I went to the funeral home, and I paid the bill.
But I also spent time just being me, too. I was in desperate need of new glasses. My most recent pair went kaput in a glorious fashion. First one temple fell off. My dad was able to glue that one back on. I wore them for a day. And then the other temple fell off. Fortunately, I still had an old pair, but they were threatening to go the way of the newer pair, plus they were the wrong prescription. They sufficed, but they really needed to be replaced. And so I went to an optometrist about whom my mom had heard good things (and who is attached to an optician who can make new glasses the same day). And I bought two new pairs. And now I can see again out of both my eyes. And, yes, there was an extra $10 charge per lens because my prescription is that strong. And it was still less than half the cost it would have been to go to my old optometrist.
Allow me to digress. I really didn’t want to go to my old optometrist. I’ve seen him since I was 9. He’s a nice man. But I really didn’t want to have our annual conversation about endometriosis.
Him: You know how you can cure endometriosis, don’t you?
Me (grumbles): Yes.
Him: Pregnancy can cure endometriosis.
Well, I wasn’t pregnant the last time I saw him. And if I saw him again this year, I still wouldn’t be pregnant. Except unlike past years, I was pregnant in between my annual eye appointments. And, yes, this is a conversation I had with him for a good ten years, aka the time I spent on the pill. So, yeah, I really didn’t want to go and see him. And not only was the optometrist I saw great, but I could easily afford both the appointment and my new glasses.
So, yes, of course Sofia is frequently on my mind. And, yes, in my quiet moments today, I realize that she would have been four weeks old, and I wonder where the days have gone, and I miss her. But I’m still living my life. And trying not to feel too guilty about it.