I originally wrote this as a poem entitled “Be Happy.” It’s deeply personal to me and cut me to the core when I wrote it. It shows the full circle of being shattered. I hope you enjoy.
“Serious problems conceiving,” the doctor murmured finally. “Possibly never. If it happens, it won’t go to term.” Serious problems.
“Leave it to God,” mom.
“Be a great aunt,” brother.
“Be happy,” dad.
“Be happy,” grandma.
“Be happy,” friends.
“It’s your fault you lost my child,” first husband. Serious problems.
“You’re pregnant,” doctor. Glee and just a little pride filled me, until…not again. “You knew this was a possibility, I’m deeply sorry.”
“What did you do! It’s your fault again!” first husband. “Next time, don’t be stupid. You’re killing them. It’s your fault!” Serious problems.
“Cry on my shoulder,” mom.
“It’ll get better, I love you,” brother.
“Be happy,” dad.
“Be happy,” grandparents.
“Be happy,” friends.
“Why don’t you smile?” students. Serious problems.
Major medical always consumes, drowns, stifles. Drugs, doctors, without work, degrading words, drugs, more drugs. “It’s your fault you’re not pregnant,” first husband. Serious problems.
“Leave,” friends.
“Therapy,” mom.
“Be happy,” dad.
“Be happy,” brother.
“Be the girl you used to be,” grandma. Serious problems.
It’s expensive, life. Hard decisions cost more, more, more. Serious problems. “Take me back, I’ll love you better,” EX husband. Serious problems.
Happiness is foreign, smiles are hard to make. First love reappears, not the jerk. Both made bad decisions, young marriages, stupid and hurtful mistakes. Serious problems.
“No kids, doctors say.”
“That’s okay, we are enough. All I want is YOU happy,” First Love.
“Not sure how…” Serious problems.
Marriage, premade family, love? Maybe…Pregnant, not again. “We’re okay, no matter what, I love you,” First Love.
“It’s viable, congrats!” Doctor.
Wait, wait, wait for the inevitable. Wait. Wait–serious problems.
Wait, it’s a girl. This is real. April–my new favorite month. Being happy, not a serious problem.