"Whatever shall we do in that remote spot? Well, we'll write our memoirs. Work is the scythe of time." --Napoleon Bonaparte, on his way into exile.

Sunday, November 28, 2004


Ten years ago, I took a friend to the airport in Toronto (the reason why is a whole other entry, but it's not the point of this story, so, onward). On the way home I rounded a curve in the 401 and came upon an eerie sight.

A Mercedes sedan had just overturned and was sitting in the middle of the oncoming lanes. I know it had only just happened because there was no traffic backup yet and its tires were still spinning, slowly. The car was resting on its roof and there was glass and luggage and belongings spread out in a trail behind the vehicle.

I kept going because I didn't know what else to do. I did not yet have a cell phone. There was more oncoming traffic, so I knew someone had probably already called the police and they were most likely on their way. The whole scene was like a snapshot, taken on a beautiful sunny day, locked in my mind.

This whole week has been like that accident. I started bleeding on Sunday afternoon and after two frantic conversations with the on-call doctor, I realized there was nothing I could do but wait. Wait and keep on going.

The doctor was only reassuring in that she told me it was nothing I had done, but her tone was such that -- while she never used the word "miscarriage" -- I knew what was happening. It was only a matter of when. "Could be tonight, could be next week," she told me. I feel lucky that it finally happened Monday night. The physical part was over, but I've been dealing with the aftermath ever since. Like a car crash, sometimes I'm pinned under the wreckage, sometimes I'm wandering around on the highway, looking for my stuff. But I'm alive. We've got Tess, and she has been a comfort and delight.

Thanksgiving was spent with my family up north, and I needed that. Last night was my 20-year high school reunion, and that also helped in its own weird way (the open bar did its part, I'm sure). I'd like to share photos of the event with you, but it probably won't be until next week. I know you understand.

Thanks, as always, for reading.


  • At 4:48 PM, Blogger Minxxy said…

    My thoughts are with you and your family x

  • At 1:16 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Oh, Denise, I'm so sorry.


  • At 5:26 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I'm so sorry. Please take extra special good care of yourself right now. I'll be thinking healing thoughts in your direction.


  • At 11:37 PM, Blogger vj said…

    I am so sorry! I'm thinking of you. Take care of yourself...

  • At 1:29 PM, Blogger Tamara said…

    I just now read this and am so sorry. Please take care of yourself and know that you're in my thoughts.

  • At 5:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Denise, I saw your url listed in my stats today, so I came to visit. Read your post, and my heart just ached for you. Words...are so inadequate.
    Sharon (Knitknacks)

  • At 10:23 PM, Blogger Denise said…

    Thanks again to everyone who wrote comments here, or sent me a personal email. If I didn't get back to you, it's because this stupid comments section makes some people have to respond anonymously (if they can leave a comment at all, grr...). Big hugs to everyone. Love, Denise


Post a Comment

<< Home