We went to the doctor today. It's been a little over six weeks since I checked out of the hospital against my doctor's advice because I wanted to grieve and heal at home. It's been a little over two weeks since, again, without my doctor's consent, Jacob and I made love for the first time since the end of September. It has been a little over a week since I was given the very last of my much-loathed anti-depressants, having been weaned off them fairly quickly and with minor difficulties.
So tentatively I was peeking out at the world and wondering if all of my professional Bridget-keepers were going to clear me for normal life now, Jacob included.
And they did and it's bittersweet. We chose some birth control we can live with and we were told to go home and be happy and live normally, that I am healing just fine and am physically well again. Couple this with another follow-up today with Claus in which he declared that he knew I would find myself with time and the incredible support that I have.
In the truck on the way home we were quiet, each of us lost in our own separate thoughts of what normal life might be like, because we've never really known it before for anything length of time and yet, here it is.
What in the hell has ever been normal about our relationship? It's mostly been some quiet wonderful days that wire together the popping, exploding lights of heartache, pain and overwhelming joy. I'm not sure how to function like this.
Jacob was standing beside me, tense and and holding my hand while I sat on the table and waited for the doctor to return after my exam with some more information on future pregnancies. Jacob's hand was warm and damp, mine was trembling. Being here brought back everything but we remained in place because it's closure of a different sort.
Bridget, everything looks terrific. No pain with sexual activity?
No, none.
Jacob looked at the floor. We had expected a lecture. My doctor tends to do that.
Looks like you're doing very well. A model patient. Good luck with everything, you two.
Dismissed because physically the scars will fade. Emotionally the scars will fade. It's a contest, a marathon between my body and my mind now to see which one can claim resiliency first. My body always wins these races and my head plays catch-up forever.
When I look to Jacob to gauge his reaction to the doctor's placating reassurances, the fluorescent glow of the lights on his skin makes the dark circles beneath his eyes appear that much deeper and the hard set of his chin reveals his unspoken disappointments. We should have been sitting here hearing our baby's heartbeat for the first time. I hate those lights. The whole time the doctor was droning on in his professional voice all I could do was think about how cold those lights make the world, bathing our flaws in unflattering radiance.
This closure marks more step on the path to our future. We got through it. I'm planted back firmly on my axis, spinning with just the right angle at the perfect speed. There are no injuries to get past. No surgeries to heal from. No heartache to overcome, no death to grieve for. No fear of reprisals. No medications. No alcohol problems for Bridget at present.
Mark this date in history.
When we got home, Jacob took my coat for me and hung it up and we walked into the kitchen from the back porch and he closed the door. I turned back and looked at him and he was staring at me. Staring like he had never really seen me before. It was the same look he gave me that day in the coffeeshop back in 1997, the day he couldn't take his eyes off me. The grin that said he liked what he was seeing, a lot.
He laughed shyly, and put his hand up to rub his thumb on my bottom lip, like he does when he loves me very, very much and he's thinking.
Princess.
Yes?
Where do we go from here?
Up, Jacob. Up.
Yeah. Because there's nowhere else to go, is there?
I love you, Jake.
I love you, princess. And I thank God for you, every single day.
