Three years later, my ex had a baby with someone else and named her the same name I had mentioned for the baby that we didn’t have. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, but it wasn’t acceptable to be pro-choice and feel devastated and wonder whether I’d made the right choice after all. It took three more years for the pain to motivate me to search for another way. I created a roadmap to recover my true experience and the possibility of a new life.
I made up the idea that this spirit-baby might not forgive me, as if it were sitting in therapy sessions in the afterlife, talking about how I’d screwed it up. Once I realized this nonphysical entity wasn’t blaming me for the way I’d handled three nightmarish weeks in 2004, I felt that it had compassion for me–or maybe I finally had compassion for myself.
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