I have my period and it's perfect: bright red-pink, not too thick or too dark, not too much or too little, not even too crampy. Exactly the kind of flow Chinese Medicine describes as healthy. I believe in those muck-brack teas I drank over Christmas, and I believe in the power of my womb again. Three cycles have come and gone since the latest miscarriage, and the green light is on to try again.
Only, suddenly there is no one to do the trying with.
So how do I feel? Strangely, not too bad. This may change a week from now, when my period is done and my uterus is primed for baby-making. I expect I will be sad then, and angry, and I don't expect those feelings will pass easily. But at this moment, it's a relief not to be rushing headlong into the abyss.
I thought I was pushing toward happy family, but I was so wrong. I'd rather never have children than compromise to that degree ever again.
This is not to say that I still don't want to raise a child, to revel in nurturing and celebrating a new life. And it doesn't mean I don't fantasize that I'll find myself in ideal conditions for just that venture, with relative financial stability and a terrific partner, and maybe even a book or two under my belt. (Yes, I'm really beginning to embrace this dream of being a writer.) But for now, I'm just happy to see a bright red-pink reminder that it's not too late.
For the time being, I'll revel in nurturing and celebrating my own new life.