Saddled

I used to love this season - the crisp fall air, trips to the cider mill, picking apples and the changing leaves. I loved it so much I named my first daughter after this season, the one she was born into.

But this year, I can't stand it. I look at the bright, bold colors of each leaf throwing off its chlorophyl, beautiful and brilliant in their final dying, and all I can see is death. Everything is dying. Cornstalks that, just a few months ago, stretched into endless green fields now sway in the autumn wind, yellowed and faded, simply husks. It's all fading away, and while I once gloried in the beautiful, dazzling display of autumn's end, now all it does is remind me.

It reminds me of William, and his death. I wish I'd seen him in those last moments, been able to look into his eyes, feel his last breath. If I had to lose him, why couldn't I have held him in those last moments? Why does the universe have to keep dangling things in front of me, a carrot before the horse, and yanking it away at the last moment? Almost there...you've almost made it... yet over every hill is just another mirage.

The universe says, you can carry your baby for nine months, but he'll die before you ever get to hold him. The universe says, sure, fine, you'll get pregnant again and get to ride that elated wave for a few days...before it all ends in more pain and blood. 

Always pulled up short, just shy, never quite reaching any sweet destination.

Does the horse eventually catch on? Does she just stop in the middle of the field? Does she turn and leave that impossible carrot dangling?  I am harnessed, the bit a cold, steel reminder in my mouth. There is no other way, that's what my body says, what my head screams.

I want that carrot.

I want my "fuck you" to the universe.

But what I really want is William back.

It's a callous and cold thought: "I went through all that for NOTHING!?" But it's my feeling and it's real. How many times did I say, heavy and dragging with my belly distended with William, "I'm never doing this again!"

I'm never doing this again... 

Careful what you say.

Today, M. said, "If we're not pregnant this time, maybe we should just stop trying."

I couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. That horse can't imagine not trodding onward, heading for that dangling carrot. There is nothing else in her field of vision - it's all orange, all the time. For me, it's like that. All baby, all the time. How can I stop? How can I say no?

The truth is, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid of making that choice. I'm afraid of losing the hope, the possibility that I might... just... reach... that... carrot.

But I'm more afraid of who I might become if there is no rainbow at the end. I have glimpsed that woman, and she isn't pretty. She is bitter, angry, resentful, cynical... If there is no hope, I'm afraid that I will become her, that the worst of the things I have been since William's death will become crystalized like ice shards in my chest, replacing what used to be my heart.

I don't want to be that woman. I want to have hope, I want to believe.  I want to keep pursuing that carrot...even if it is an impossible dream, a mirage. Even if.