Don't read this.  Really, don't.  I don't mean to be a downer.  I really don't.  So, don't read this.

This isn't a rant.  This isn't a remembrance.  I am always so busy at this time of year it is tends to separate me from my heart and my mind is pressed into a million tasks.  It seems that I simply move through tasks for all of August and all of September EVERY year.  This year has been worse because this year I'm depressed.  See?  This is current.  I didn't say I WAS depressed.  I said I am depressed.

I long for multiple days off.  I long for days where my melancholy personality can decompress…then rest…THEN process.  At this time of year, it is rare to get two days off but even when I do it isn't quite enough.

I'm in a high form of my melancholy self.  It isn't my sole identity but it is the clearest reflection of my personality.  I am capable of joy, I think, but it just isn't clear to me right now.

I've been in the habit for many years now of being able to overcome my down tendencies and press through and overcome them.  Maybe this time it is worse because of my age.  From time to time I have age-related depressions.  I remember 13 especially because of an event on my birthday.  I remember 21.  I remember 25.  None of these birthdays were good and the years were not good.  I also remember 30 because my life was rapidly changing and I was getting better.  I wasn't the depressed little one I had always been.  I wasn't addicted at the same level.  I was changing and it was good.  I also remember 35 when a bunch of friend (SO MANY FRIENDS) threw me a big birthday party and it was good.

I remember 40 and it was not good.  At 42, I was engaged to be married to Mark and so much had happened in the previous 2 years I almost forgave the selfishness of others that surrounded my life on my 40th. 

Last year, the day after my 44th birthday, I found out I was pregnant.  It was a miracle and though I was very afraid, I was filled with anticipation for that baby.  Getting married at 42, it was almost more than I ever thought possible.  I, Laura Leigh, was married to a good man and had, miraculously, become pregnant.

As the weeks went by I was full of anticipation and had the "fun" of roller coaster emotions but there were problems with the pregnancy from the beginning.  Thanksgiving rolled around and I was busy making the meal for my mom and step-dad, my sister and brother-in-law and nieces and for Mark and me.  I leaned against the counter to stir the stuffing and I felt a growing firmness in my abdomen.  I "felt" the pregnancy in the zone where people carry their pregnancies.  We hadn't told our families yet and we wanted to tell everyone at Christmas.

We went through Thanksgiving Day as a couple with a precious secret.  It was really a good feeling to know we were going to be parents.  The next day I began to plan for our event of telling everyone and thought of a great idea that really fit Mark and me.  We were going to make a movie poster to announce this "Coming Attraction" and it was going to be fun.

By November 30 we knew we weren't going to carry.  On December 7 I had completed the miscarriage.  I crashed emotionally.  I guess it was the real loss.  I guess it was death to our vision.  I guess it was hormonal.  I guess.

On New Year's Eve I had my first "normal" day and so Mark and I went to our city's downtown celebration and had a great time.  For almost the whole evening and a couple of days after, I didn't think about the loss at all. 

Ah, but it all came back with a vengeance about a week later.  I felt offended in my mind and heart that this good thing had gone all bad.  I was connected to the idea of being a Mom.  I realized I would be a good Mom.  I realized that I wanted this for Mark and me.

The side issue was that, somehow, it felt affirming to be pregnant and sharing this with my husband.  This single event touched something that had been otherwise untouchable in me.  Finally, Mark summed it up.  He said, "We are parents!"

God!  That HURTS so much and feels so amazingly good.  God! This hurts!

My heart responds to Mark saying, "I am a MOM." Then, my heart accuses me and says that it doesn't count and THEN the Spirit of God rises up and I believe–somehow.

Then, the questions began…then the hopelessness…then the feeling of being truly                 O – L - D.

The doctor said not to try again because of my age.  Others who think I am young (REALLY!) said not to worry because I can still have children.  Still others say "God will do this."  Or, "God will do that."  OR, "This must mean that…" And, can I say that it is a strange world to live in when people try to interpret the intent of a sovereign, holy and just God.  I'm turning 45 this year and I feel every day of 45!  Right now I feel too deep for words but I am still compelled to write and put it out there and see what happens.

One friend (and they ARE a friend) says that maybe it is good that I don't have a child because the world is going to hell in a hand-basket. (Maybe that is true.  Maybe.)  Another says that maybe it is good because it will get in the way of my "TRUE CALLING."  ::::GP rolls the eyes at that one:::: Another says that God wanted to raise my baby. (I respond with the old Valley Girl voice saying, "Oh muh gosh!" at the insensitivity of that one.)

I am a melancholy.  THAT I cannot deny.

So, September sends me into a countdown toward my November 1 birthday.  It always does. 

I don't think I like September very much anymore.  September means the end of Summer.  September means 9/11.  September means working my tail off.

I remember the song from my youth.  I remember it from the radio.  It was a magical song.  It was dreamy.  (It obviously wasn't about Oklahoma but I loved it.)

Try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow/ Try to remember the kind of September when grass was green and grain was yellow/


Try to remember when life was so tender that no one wept except the willow/ Try to remember when life was so tender that dreams were kept beside your pillow


Deep in December, it's nice to remember although you know the snow will follow/ Deep in December, it's nice to remember without a hurt the heart is hollow/ Deep in December, it's nice to remember the fire of September that made us mellow/ Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow…follow…follow

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