Now That's Love

I prefer stoicism. I prefer it to crying and drama. But this time I gave myself some slack and allowed myself to indulge.

This time, I deserved it. Letting go.

In the kitchen I thought to myself that I can take my diabetes. I won't complain, I'll just deal. I will try and suck it up that I can't seem to find someone to love. Or, someone I could see myself loving to love me. Even though I feel it is my life's purpose.

But this? Today my blood test results came back and my body is not capable of making a decent batch of healthy eggs to freeze. Could I still get pregnant? Yes. But it is highly improbable as it's not something I will likely get working on in the next year. I am not hopeful. This I am not OK with. Give me diabetes ten times over, whatever, but this I am not OK with. This what feels like the loss of my other life's purpose.

I am taken back to a strange daydream I had while still living in FL and was sitting on the beach at sundown one evening alone. I closed my eyes and suddenly, my husband was sitting next to me, holding our son. He was blonde and about eighteen months old.  It felt almost like a premonition. Now I see it for what it was. A daydream.

For the first time in nearly ten years, I let the rage come, kicking the kitchen door shut, crouching, fists clenched, letting out a guttural, primal scream into my black and white checked floor. It felt equal parts foreign, comfortable, and appropriate.

Harlow came running to me at the sound of it.  It wasn't my dog being curious or nosey hey, what's going on?.  She ran to me like she was in the dog park at full speed, saying, in her own way I'm coming! I'm here!.

I sat and sobbed with my back to the wall. She moved to be right next to me, sat, and put her paw in my lap. Just patiently letting me cry. Then, she lay down, putting her head in my lap instead, as if she was saying Take your time. Here, I'll get on the floor with you. 

After a little while, she sat up again leaning slightly into me, and this time, twisted her head so it sat in the crook of my neck. Like you would if you were holding someone.

My dog held me.

My spastic, hyper, high energy dog, sat with me, and held me while I cried. For all her fidgety ways, and quirky mannerisms, I have no doubt in my mind what she was doing for me in that moment. She was simply being there. Just sitting with me.

I can't think of a human who could have done it better.

I still feel terrible. My heart is heavy and this news has left me feeling broken and lacking in too many ways. I will adjust, of course. It's what one does. But for now, I have a puppy who deserved a big belly rub.