Where do we go from here?

“We can provide counselling for matters like these…” Dr. Knight said. He said this like this was all a routine procedure. Like this was the most normal thing in the world. Like Amanda hadn’t lost her whole world…again. 

After five miscarriages, there was not much that could ease her pain. She had been in therapy for at least six years. At this point she wasn't sure if it supposed to help, or whether they just didn't know what else to tell her. But her job paid for it, so she kept going.

Amanda had stopped telling her husband - Duncan - about her pregnancies. She kept telling herself she wanted to wait “until it was real”. She thought he saw her as a failed wife - 10 years and no kids. His mother had said as much. So, she stopped telling him after the second one.

Amanda felt like their marriage was already hanging on by a thread - they had married young just so they could fill their house with kids and - to Amanda - that dream turned out to be a nightmare. Of course, if she had asked Duncan about this nightmare marriage he would’ve told her he just wanted his wife back. That he could live without children, but he was finding it difficult to live without a wife. 

This is not to say that the house wasn’t clean, his meals weren’t prepared and they didn’t have regular sex (according to her ovulation calendar). This is to say that sex, food and a clean house doesn’t complete the level of companionship Duncan and Amanda had before marriage, or even 7 years ago. As the losses became greater and greater, pieces of Amanda slipped away. And maybe Duncan didn’t quite know how to hold on anymore. 

Everyone’s fantasy is to find the man, have the wedding, buy the house and get the baby - according to everyone in Amanda’s family at least. After her first loss, she thought she could find solace at church so she never missed a service and hosted every meeting of the Women of Value - even though she was technically 2 decades too young to join. But, what hat she found was something quite the opposite of solace.

Amanda was tired of putting on a brave face and a tight smile to face the ladies at church. She was tired of sitting in prayer circles as they sought divine wisdom and prayed over her womb. She was tired of hearing how many times other people had tried. Duncan had been the source of pity and she had been the target of scorn. “Poor Duncan, married to a barren wife”.

She tried to talk to her mother about it, but all she kept saying was “the Lord will provide in His divine time”. After the second miscarriage she stopped talking to Duncan about everything except church, work and daily meals. She didn’t plan on doing this, but a woman can only hear “it’s okay” so many times when it’s obviously not okay. But sometimes men don’t know what else to say…and then it’s too late. 

“Is everything okay Mrs. Smith?” Dr. Knight asked, breaking the silence and transporting Amanda back to the present. 

“No it’s not!” Amanda snapped. Then, she caught herself. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I meant…”.

“It’s okay. That was a stupid question to ask after confirming the loss of your baby. I'm sorry. Do you need a moment? Can I get you anything?” Dr. Knight asked as he motioned to the refreshments and napkins to the side of his desk.

Amanda was shocked at his kindness. She relaxed, and said she only needed a few minutes to collect herself.

‘Sure, take your time. You were my last patient for the day”.

When she heard this something inside her switched on, or maybe off. She couldn’t pretend to be okay anymore, and so she started talking. She told Dr. Knight everything she couldn’t say at church, to her parents and even to Duncan. She barely paused for air. At some point she figured she was overstepping, but it felt too good to let it all out. 

They were interrupted by a faint knock, and then the receptionist’s face appeared.

“Hi, Dr. Knight. Mrs. Smith. It’s seven o’clock and I should’ve been gone at five. The cleaning crew doesn’t come on Tuesdays, so will you lock up, Dr. Knight?” 

“Oh yes, Sharon. Please go. I’ll be right behind you”, Dr. Knight nodded.

When the door clicked and Amanda felt like Sharon was no longer within earshot, she said: “I'm so sorry. I just don’t generally have anyone to talk to about all this. I’m so sorry I overstepped. I should be going”.

He assured her it was okay and that she hadn’t been the first woman to offload for two hours in his office — even though she had been. He slipped her a card for a therapist who led a group counselling session for grieving parents. She tucked the card in her handbag, nodded good night and left Dr. Knight’s office. 

Amanda didn’t want to go home, but she had stopped talking to the few friends she had left after the third miscarriage and if she didn’t go home, where else would she go? She stopped drinking years ago, and if she really thought about it she didn’t even know what she liked to do anymore. 

She boarded the train home, and took out her phone. Two missed calls from Duncan. She texted him: “Sorry, things ran late at work”. Then she immediately thought about what she could make quickly for dinner. She frowned - was this really her life? Having a breakdown in a doctor’s office and then wondering what she would cook for dinner, like nothing happened?

She put in her headphones and blasted music all the way home to drown out her thoughts. She was relieved when she got home to see Chinese takeout on the counter along with a note from Duncan saying he had gone to bed. She wanted to talk to him, but maybe tomorrow. 

Sometimes “tomorrow” takes a little longer than expected. It had been three weeks since Amanda’s breakdown in the doctor’s office and she hadn’t been to therapy or spoken to Duncan. Both felt impossible and if she was being honest a little unnecessary. Why go to therapy when she knew nothing would change, and why talk to Duncan when she knew things would probably get worse? 

Just thinking about it, the tears started to flow. At first like intermittent showers, but then it became a full on rainstorm. She fished around in her bag for anything to stop the downpour. Crying at the bus stop after work was not on her bucket list. She dabbed her eyes with a wad of McDonald’s napkins and as her vision came clear again, she saw it - the card for the group counselling session. She had stopped believing in miracles and signs a long time ago, but she thought this had to be some kind of divine intervention. 

She was a little too hesitant to call the therapist, but she pulled out her phone and went to the website. There was a session this evening. She texted Duncan: “Another late day at the office. So sorry. Don’t wait up ❤️”. 

After almost turning back a thousand times, she made it to the venue. She completed the brief registration and was ushered in by a woman with a kind face, and what looked like a genuine smile - “there’s no assigned seating, but we do prefer newcomers to sit closer to the front”. 

Amanda scanned the room, she didn’t expect to see anyone she knew but maybe she could… she didn’t finish the thought.

Was that Duncan?

Across the room, she saw a figure, like her husband’s, getting tea and nodding to folks as he took a seat. She froze for a moment. She had so many questions: was it really him? If it was: why was he here? Well, she knew why he was here, but why would he go without her? How did he even hear about this? 

She walked across the room and took a seat beside the figure that was possibly Duncan. His back was turned, so he didn’t see her approaching. “Duncan?” she whispered and touched his back lightly. 

He turned.

It was Duncan.

She wasn’t sure how to read his expression.

“Amanda? What are you… How di..”, he stuttered. Then, he hugged her. Amanda wasn’t expecting this kind of embrace, and she cried. They cried in each other's arms, exchanging more than words could express. 

Amanda felt a tap on her shoulder. When she looked up, it was the lady with the kind face “Hi there, ahh ... Amanda”, she said checking her registration list. “Would you and Duncan like a private room? You may rejoin the session anytime you wish”. 

“Thank you, but no, I think we’ll be leaving”, Amanda responded. She turned to Duncan - “I have something to show you”. She led him out the door. 

It was time. 

They rode the bus to the other side of the city in silence. When they came off the bus and started walking it took a little while, but Duncan realized where they were. “Wait, isn’t this the way to our old apartment?”

“Just please follow me”, was all Amanda said.

They arrived at 4356 Beaker Street. The first place they ever lived together. She led him up the three flights of stairs to apartment #324. She took the keys out of her bag, opened the door and they walked in together. 

Duncan wasn’t sure what to expect, and what he saw was beyond anything he could’ve expected.

The studio apartment was decorated like a high-end nursery. There was a gold crib, a rocking chair, pastel-coloured floral wallpaper, a book shelf packed with all kinds of baby books, toys, and even a play pen. When he looked over at the kitchen, it was outfitted with breast pumps, milk warmers, plastic plates and utensils. This was all the stuff they had bought for baby #1- Daniel- and baby #2 - Jordan, minus the gold crib. That was new.

This was all the stuff Amanda had said she returned or had given away.

“I know you might think I’m crazy right now, but I’ve been keeping this place and this stuff because I just couldn’t bear to let it go. I don’t know what to do with the emptiness inside me. And all of this makes me feel a little bit more whole. I have been going to therapy for years, but some days I skip the session to sit here and read these books aloud. Mostly to no-one, but sometimes I think Daniel and Jordan can hear me. So I read to them”, she trailed off. 

“I know it doesn’t make sense to keep all this and to keep paying for this apartment and I promise I will let it go soon”. They both knew that “soon”, like “tomorrow” may never come, but neither of them said it.