Who lives, who dies, who tells your story
I think the time has finally come to tell my story. Yes I've given glimpses here and there, but it feels like it's time. Maybe it's because the year is winding down, maybe it's because rain makes me think too much... whatever the reason, here we go.
**this may be triggering for those who have been through pregnancy loss**
Where to start this story? Well, let me bring you back to Summer 2017. I was still married (though not happily), and found myself pregnant right after moving to a new apartment. It was something that we had initially talked about, but with the move and other things going on, it kind of fell by the wayside. But... surprise! The pregnancy was very difficult. I was finding myself terrified that something bad was going to happen and also was very alone as my husband didn't really want the baby. I was moody and sick as many woman are at the beginning and this was constantly thrown back in my face.
On August 27, at 10 weeks pregnant, I miscarried. I knew it was coming for days, but kept getting told by doctors to "just wait it out." Unfortunately, this is protocol unless you have a history of miscarriages or are over a certain age. I was 33 and relatively healthy, so no one took it as anything... until it was too late. I won't go into detail because no one needs to read about that, but I will say that I spent 2 hours in a bathtub... by myself. The cats kept poking their heads in to make sure mommy was ok, but that was it. My husband checked on me once or twice, but I was alone... during the worst moment of my life, I was alone.
Needless to say I was completely heartbroken over the entire thing and never fully recovered from it. I was thrown into horrible postpartum depression and by the end of October found myself back in therapy. This was the beginning of what would end up being my new life. Through therapy I was able to look at what my life had become, get my medications sorted out, and come out of a 10 year fog I had been living in (I was severely over-medicated for disorder I didn't even have). By March 1, 2018 I had moved out.
At 33, for the first time in my life, I was living alone and grieving the worst grief I'd ever experienced. By the summer of that year, I was at my wits end. I was fighting with my soon to be ex over divorce papers, dealing with summer season at my job (which was living hell), and not coping with the fact that the anniversary of the miscarriage was coming up. By mid-July I was very very close to the end of my rope. Enter Hamilton...
I will be 100% honest here... I had never listened to Hamilton prior to that summer. I had heard a few songs, but that was it. Well, Spotify one day said "hey, you listen to all of these things, why not give this a try?" So I did... and the rest is history (no pun intended). All of a sudden, I found myself able to sleep, I stopped snapping at people every day, and for some reason that I didn't yet know, I was beginning to heal.
One rainy day in early August, I was laying on my couch listening to the cast album (as one does) and it finally hit me. The last song begins to play, Eliza starts to sing:
**this may be triggering for those who have been through pregnancy loss**
Where to start this story? Well, let me bring you back to Summer 2017. I was still married (though not happily), and found myself pregnant right after moving to a new apartment. It was something that we had initially talked about, but with the move and other things going on, it kind of fell by the wayside. But... surprise! The pregnancy was very difficult. I was finding myself terrified that something bad was going to happen and also was very alone as my husband didn't really want the baby. I was moody and sick as many woman are at the beginning and this was constantly thrown back in my face.
On August 27, at 10 weeks pregnant, I miscarried. I knew it was coming for days, but kept getting told by doctors to "just wait it out." Unfortunately, this is protocol unless you have a history of miscarriages or are over a certain age. I was 33 and relatively healthy, so no one took it as anything... until it was too late. I won't go into detail because no one needs to read about that, but I will say that I spent 2 hours in a bathtub... by myself. The cats kept poking their heads in to make sure mommy was ok, but that was it. My husband checked on me once or twice, but I was alone... during the worst moment of my life, I was alone.
Needless to say I was completely heartbroken over the entire thing and never fully recovered from it. I was thrown into horrible postpartum depression and by the end of October found myself back in therapy. This was the beginning of what would end up being my new life. Through therapy I was able to look at what my life had become, get my medications sorted out, and come out of a 10 year fog I had been living in (I was severely over-medicated for disorder I didn't even have). By March 1, 2018 I had moved out.
At 33, for the first time in my life, I was living alone and grieving the worst grief I'd ever experienced. By the summer of that year, I was at my wits end. I was fighting with my soon to be ex over divorce papers, dealing with summer season at my job (which was living hell), and not coping with the fact that the anniversary of the miscarriage was coming up. By mid-July I was very very close to the end of my rope. Enter Hamilton...
I will be 100% honest here... I had never listened to Hamilton prior to that summer. I had heard a few songs, but that was it. Well, Spotify one day said "hey, you listen to all of these things, why not give this a try?" So I did... and the rest is history (no pun intended). All of a sudden, I found myself able to sleep, I stopped snapping at people every day, and for some reason that I didn't yet know, I was beginning to heal.
One rainy day in early August, I was laying on my couch listening to the cast album (as one does) and it finally hit me. The last song begins to play, Eliza starts to sing:
I help to raise hundreds of children
I get to see them growing up
In their eyes I see you, Alexander
I see you every time
The name we had picked out for the baby if it were a boy was... Alexander. So here I am, grieving, trying to figure out how to cope and it's right there in my face. I started to cry but this cry was different... it was healing, cathartic.
As the days wore on, and I listened to Hamilton completely non-stop (again, no pun intended), I was finding things getting a little easier coping-wise and then one day it hit me in the form of the saddest song in the entire show:
If I could spare his life
If I could trade his life for mine
He'd be standing here right now
And you would smile, and that would be enough
I don't pretend to know
The challenges we're facing
I know there's no replacing what we've lost
And you need time
But I'm not afraid
I know who I married
Just let me stay here by your side
That would be enough
These words, said to a grieving mother, were the words I never heard. I was alone that night, I was alone in my grief, and never received support at the worst time of my life. Now I had this song with the perfect words and I started to heal. Every time that song would play, the hole in my heart would close every so slightly. It'll never heal completely, but it gets smaller and smaller with each listen even now.
August 27th came and went with hardly any trouble. I came home that night to a letter from the probate court with my hearing date and it was like a lightbulb went off... you don't have to stay here anymore! You can leave! I felt free. Over the next 2 days, I could not get the idea of New York out of my head. I'd never been a city person... never lived in the city or had any desire to... but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting for me. Thursday of that week, I went to bed asking for a sign. If this is wrong, right, whatever... just tell me. The very first thing I saw when I woke up the next morning, was this...
That settled it! I had a plan and would find a way to get to NY if it killed me.
Over the next 4 months, the signs kept coming. Sometimes I asked for them, other times they would just appear. It was all part of someone's master plan, I'm sure, but I knew that I was on the right path. That gmorning tweet was posted on August 31, 2018. By December 31, 2018, exactly 4 months later, I was in my New York apartment ready to start my new life.
My journey hasn't been easy. I still trip and fall on a daily basis. I still wonder if I've made a mistake (though that feeling is less and less as the months go on). Something brought me to this city. Something kept me alive when I didn't see a way out. I always say that Hamilton saved my life and a gmorning tweet changed my life, and now you know why. I would literally not be where I am today if it weren't for this dude...
Forever grateful for you, Lin. Love you man.
-Danielle
