“Hey Jen, how are you?” “I’m great! How are you?” “You aren’t great. You’re ok, but not great.” “What do you mean? I’m fine.” “No, you aren’t. I know you better than anyone else. Something is wrong.” “Honestly, I’m fine. No problems here.” “That isn’t true. I know you. You could cry a million tears inside but no one could ever see it on your face.”
“You do know me better than I realized. I forgot. I’ll tell you the truth then. Last year, I had a miscarriage. Well no, it wasn’t exactly a miscarriage. It was an ectopic pregnancy. My left tube burst and had to be removed. Bad genes, according to the doctor. I’m only 31, and I might not ever be able to have kids. On top of that, my fiance at the time accused me of having an abortion, and wouldn’t so much as look at me the first month after my surgery. We had been having problems before, and losing the pregnancy seemed to bring everything to a head. I was in the hospital for 3 days, and had to stay off my feet for 2 weeks after the surgery. He didn’t lift a finger to help me. As soon as I was out of the recovery period, I moved out of the house and left him. He wanted to go to therapy and work things out, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.
I thought I would feel like myself by now, but I still don’t. I am doing better. But I’m still not me. And I miss that. I want to go back to being that same woman who was the first on the dance floor and the last one off. Who was always ready for an adventure and laughed too loud. Where is she? Where is the real me?”
“I’m right here. I always have been. I was with you when you were alone in the hospital, scared out of your mind and crying your eyes out. I was with you the first day you went back to work after the surgery when you were so scared of hurting yourself. And I was there when you packed up your stuff and left to start a new life.
I’ve been here the whole time. And I’ll never leave you.”