August is here, and it's the beginning of the back-to-school anxiety in earnest. I have to get in and set up my classroom (I already moved furniture, but I didn't unpack anything); I have to start planning for the social studies class I'm teaching in the 12:1:1 program, I have to make copies and do my professional development reading and IEP reviewing and all the things that I fear I am running out of time to do, and it's only August 6th.
August is also my month of losses. It's when I had the ectopic. It's when I had the miscarriage. In fact, TODAY is the day I found out that my sac was no more, that my numbers were definitely down and there was nobody home in my life-sucking uterus. I didn't clue into this until that stupid "On This Day" feature on social media alerted me to a vague post about bad things happening to good people and I realized, Oh, yeah, that was 6 years ago today. SIX YEARS. Unbelievable.
But that's a first -- I am not as clued in to the exact dates of those horrible days anymore, and it made me sad when I saw it but then I also thought, holy shit I'm so glad we're done with all that. And I moved on with my evening, without the appearance of a single tear.
I also survived my first flights by myself in around ten years, so huzzah for adulting. I managed to make it through my flights without too much heavy breathing and white knuckling, and my last flight last night was not even close to full and there was NO ONE next to me at all in the entire row AND no one behind me. It was a lovely gift to close out a lovely five days with my friend.
And, tonight I flipped my dog in Buti Yoga, for the very first time (under pressure, at least).
I'm kicking ass and taking names. It makes me feel good that while I am definitely still grappling with the grief of never parenting, I am moving forward -- pushing myself to do things because I'll enjoy them, even though they scare me.
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