My car needs an oil change.
Or, so it keeps telling me as I drive through my day.
The first reminder is gentle. “Change Oil Soon”. It comes on once and goes away with one click.
Then the car turns on the big guns. And uses a word like “Required”.
My car needs an oil change. And I know this. And like everything at the moment it will just have to wait.
Wait for time, energy and money.
I have none of those things at the moment. So like most everything in my life at the moment. It will wait.
Despite it’s obnoxiously worded warning.
Despite the ever present-ness of the reminder.
Wait it will.
I had this idea as I stared at this little green sign while waiting in traffic this morning.
And here it is:
Whenever I get the oil changed in my car, I am getting a massage.
Or a pedicure/ manicure.
Something indulgent and just for me. Something that costs money but is SO worth it to the overall performance of…well, me.
Preventative Maintenance, every three thousand miles.
For those of you who don’t know, I had an ectopic pregnancy last year that ended in a ruptured fallopian tube and an extended stay in the hospital. I wrote this to the little soul that visited with me so briefly because I needed to. I am adding it to my blog because I want to.
I know many women who have suffered loss. And I feel like sharing and talking about it makes it so much easier. This isn’t something shameful that should be whispered in private. This is why I am happy to explain to strangers that my tatoo represents my children – a flower for my son, one for my daughter, and for the child I never got to meet – a bud.
I assume you had a
Since you continued to
In your hostile world
But not unwanted
I assume you had a soul
And from the moment I found out
In whispered words of urgency
I implored you
To get out
Before you killed me
And I am sorry we will never
sorry for your passage
And the fact that you will never know
I am sorry that you knew only
Of my body’s expulsion
And I am sorry that I never got to
And I am sorry
That you became just a note in my
to be disposed of
I am so sorry to have
I am sorry to regret
the only experience
I had with you
And to show my sorrow
I choose to wear you
In the scars that mark
your removal from my body
And in the art that
Adorns my shoulder
You sit as part of my forever
next to your brother and sister
In my heart
Part of me
But not part of
And for that
I will always be