Accommodation

April 13, 2010

I realized that it's been a while since I sat down with pen and paper and journaled instead of typing, so that's exactly what I did the other night. I only got a few sentences in before the tears began to flow.

One date that I don't really remember, though I'm sure it's written on the pictures, is the day we had our ultrasound and found out we were having a girl. The day was supposed to be different. I was admitted to the hospital on a Monday. Our ultrasound was scheduled for that Wednesday, but because I was in the hospital the appointment was cancelled. Sometime after they finally diagnosed what was going on, but before I was transferred to UMC where they could do the cyclosporine treatment, they said, "We may as well do your level two ultrasound while you're here just to make sure everything's okay." I was so excited. Excited, but the reality of my situation had set in for me then. I had begun to harness my excitement.

My memories are a little foggy. I do remembered being worried that I wouldn't be able to hold it long enough for them to do the ultrasound as I was going to the bathroom every twenty to forty minutes at that time. I remember the room was dark and Jeremy was there with me. It was a woman who did the ultrasound. She was explaining different things to us, but I wasn't really listening. All I wanted to know was whether it was a boy or a girl. And then she showed us and told us she was 70% sure she was a girl. And I named her right there: Harper Lee Cashman. I knew Jeremy wasn't going to argue with me about names, not now. We had just seen a performance of To Kill A Mockingbird a few weeks before. I was reading a biography on Nelle Harper Lee and loved what I read about her. So Harper Lee Cashman it was.

As I sat with my pen and journal I began to sob. Jeremy came and sat beside me. He grabbed some tissue and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I burried my face in his chest and sobbed. "I wanted her," I said.

"I know you did Abby."

More tears. "I tried. I tried," but I couldn't finish the sentence. No matter what happiness comes my way, for the rest of my life she will be missing and there will always be sadness that she is not with me. Always. I am helpless to change that. I will accommodate this sadness. It's a part of me now. It always will be.