The next few days in Katy’s life were basic: church on Sunday, work on Monday, work followed by Girls’ Night Out on Tuesday. Each night, Todd would call before bedtime, and they would talk about their days. Katy was no longer concerned about whether or not he was married. She knew that he wasn’t. He used his cell phone for work calls, and he took calls for work around the clock.
He had invited her out for dinner Wednesday night, but she had to refuse. She had to oversee her monthly support group meeting for rape survivors. She held it on the third Wednesday of every month. It was difficult for Katy; she hated to hear about the pain that these women suffered. She knew that it was harder for them to tell her about it than it was for her to listen, but it was still hard to hear.
The members of her group ranged from those assaulted by friends, relatives, and lovers to those who were assaulted by strangers. They ranged from non-violent but still violating date rapes to severely violent rapes. The common thread for all of the victims was that of feeling violated. Most of those assaulted by strangers became fearful of strangers, but those assaulted by people that they knew became fearful of everyone. Katy could not imagine, and hoped that she would never know, the pain that these women suffered. She knew that it was important that they have a safe haven in which to speak; a place where they could feel as though they could be open, without shame or fear. She could sympathize, and empathize with these women. She knew that she had trust issues of her own, she could not imagine what it must be like to try to trust when you have been through something as terrifying as these women.
When Katy talked to Todd on the phone, he had offered to take her out to dinner after the meeting, but Katy refused. She knew that she would be in no mood for conversation after the meeting. When she returned home after the meeting, she knew that she’d been right. She was all talked out. She was all listened out. She was all thought out. She did not want to speak, to hear, or to think for the rest of the night. She wondered why she did this. She knew that after every meeting, she came home emotionally drained.
Every once in a while, like tonight, Katy thought of finding someone else to take over her group. Then she thought about the women in her group. They liked her. They trusted her. They needed her. And then she remembered why she did it. She had not started the group so that she could stay in her own little world, sheltered from everything bad. She had started the group because she felt the need in some of her patients. She knew that they needed someone to listen and to trust. She decided that for the lack of someone better, that someone would be her. She knew in her heart that she would continue to hold the meetings as long as there was one patient out there who needed her.
Because of the meeting, she would not have to go to work on Thursday. She and her doc had decided shortly after they started the group, that she should take off the day after the meeting every month. She needed the downtime to get her head back together. She needed it more now, because about six months ago, she had started another support group meeting. This one was for women and men who had failed pregnancies. She had a support group for those who’d miscarried, and their significant others. She held that meeting on the third Thursday of every month, the night immediately following her sexual assault support group. She would not go into the office on Friday either. That way, she could have the whole weekend to recover from her meetings.
She spent most of the day Thursday in bed. She was tired, and emotionally exhausted. She slept late, and then lay around for a while. She did read for a while, and was able to finish the Patricia Cornwell novel that she had been working on for the last few weeks. She remembered that back when she was a student, she seemed to have time to read an entire novel in one sitting, and she mourned that time. She was saddened that she no longer had time in her schedule to sit and read for hours at a time. She also regretted that the times when she could sit and read for an hour or two were becoming increasingly fewer and farther between.
In the evening, she ate dinner alone, still not ready to make pleasant conversation on a date. Todd had called last night, and she’d kept the conversation brief, unable to separate her life from the stories that she’d heard in group. Normally, she would have been concerned that she would put Todd off with her behavior, but during this time of the month, she was concerned with far greater things than her love life.
After dinner, she prepared for her group meeting, and went to the office to meet with the group members. She had found, during the course of her practice, that most of the members of her group were those who had had multiple miscarriages, or those who had miscarried late in their pregnancies. She found that those who had miscarried only once, and had done so during the first trimester rarely felt that they needed to come to group. The families that involved themselves in her support group tended to have greater losses. Not that one miscarriage was not a great loss, Katy knew that it was. It just seemed that those who’d had only one early miscarriage had more hope.
Those whose miscarriage was later in the pregnancy felt a great sense of loss. Katy thought that it was because they had had longer to bond with the child growing inside them. They often felt a sense of guilt. They blamed themselves. They tended to read literature on miscarriages, and find all of the things that they had done “wrong” during their pregnancy. Many women craved peppers during their pregnancies, but there was literature out there that suggested that peppers could be problematic with high-risk pregnancies. So women who’d had second trimester losses would lament the fact that they’d eaten peppers early on. Katy spent a great deal of her time explaining that they were not high-risk pregnancies. Removal of pickled peppers from pregnant women’s diets was only suggested in those who’d had multiple miscarriages. Even then, the documentation was scant.
Then there were those who beat themselves up for going out to dinner at a restaurant that had a smoking section. They were convinced that the smoke from the other patrons was the cause of their miscarriage, and they blamed themselves for even being in the same building with smokers. Katy had to dispel their fears as well. There were those who kicked themselves for having had a drink at a party before they even knew that they were pregnant. They were convinced that that single drink had been the cause of their loss, and that they should never have had it. Katy couldn’t even count the number of times that she had had to explain that you couldn’t blame yourself for something that you did before you even knew that you were pregnant.
Then, there were those who were unpleasantly surprised by their pregnancy. Some of them had originally wished that they weren’t. Most developed a love for their unborn child over time, and began looking forward to parenthood. When they miscarried, they were barraged by guilt that they had not wanted the pregnancy more. They worried that somehow, they had caused the miscarriage. For them, it was as though God was punishing them for having negative thoughts about their pregnancy. It was a terrible guilt for them to deal with.
There was also the guilt in many of the women because they had worked during their pregnancies. Or because they had continued their exercise programs. Katy assured them that neither was a factor, but the women were often unable to accept Katy’s assurances. It didn’t matter whether it was a first miscarriage or the tenth, the women in her group who had remained active during their pregnancies were apt to blame themselves.
The worst were the people who had two or more miscarriages. They had the same type of guilt as the others. But their pain was compounded. With every miscarriage, they lost a little more of their hope. Their lives became more and more about reproduction. Some of them had gone through fertility treatments. The treatments were often painful and undignified. They had suffered through the treatments and now were suffering through the pain of losing a child. Another child. Often, they were afraid that they would never be successful in having children. Their friends were having children, co-workers with successful pregnancies, family members asking them when they were going to start a family. And the pain was always there.
The grief on the part of the men at the meetings was remarkable as well. Katy had one father in the group who was torturing himself because he had smoked pot in college. He’d read some studies that suggested that it had long term effects on the reproductive systems of males. He was certain that he had caused the death of his child, and she was unable to sway his beliefs. Other significant others felt guilt for many reasons: because they had continued with sexual activity during the pregnancy, because they felt that they were not supportive enough of their wives or lovers. One was even angry because he’d bought the pickled peppers that his wife had eaten while pregnant. That was a haunting piece of data for many of these families. Katy struggled to convince them that there was no real hard data to prove peppers, or cold cuts, or onions, or any other food effected miscarriages.
For Katy, this meeting was just as emotionally draining as the meeting the night before had been. The first was draining because of the overwhelming fear and anguish in the room. This meeting was draining because of the same level of anguish, but instead of fear, it was the absence of hope that was draining. After the meeting, Katy felt the need to go home and recuperate. She needed to regroup and get her mind back to a happier place.
She returned home, and did not have the appetite to have a snack. She did not have the desire to read. She did not have the energy to do anything. She turned on the television and hoped to find something humorous. She began channel surfing. Todd did call, but again she kept the conversation short. Todd seemed to understand. He did not seem offended, and offered his support if she wanted to talk. She was grateful for that.
Katy cancelled her regular plans for Saturday night, and told Todd on Thursday that she wouldn’t be going out on Friday night either. She just needed the time to regroup. She knew that she would need the whole weekend just to get herself together.
She spent Friday doing what she’d been missing for so long: reading. She was able to read two novels from beginning to end. She started with a Sue Grafton novel, and followed that with a John Grisham book. It was refreshing, relaxing, and distracting. It kept her mind off of the unpleasantness of the last two days. She liked to keep her reading in the mystery vein. She ordered out for her meals, and then in the evening, she took a long hot bath, complete with aromatherapy and Enya.
Katy consciously avoided reading the paper. She didn’t want to be influenced by any of the negativity of real life. She kept herself in the world of fiction. It was easier that way. In the fictional world, every problem had a solution and you reached the solution by the end of the book. It was a wonderful place to be for a day. Katy wished that real life could be that simple.
Lindsey and Todd both called to check on Katy that evening. Lindsey had experienced this before, and had always respected Katy’s desire to be left alone. She just liked to check in and make sure that Katy hadn’t gone off her nut. When Todd called, he repeated his offer to take Katy out to dinner. When she refused, he accepted it and reminded her that he was there if she needed him. It was nice. Katy liked being reminded that he cared.
By bedtime, Katy was feeling much better. The day had accomplished its objective, and she considered briefly whether or not to go out the following night. She decided that she should take advantage of the time to rest. Her life was busy, and it was rare that she should have this kind of time to herself.
Christy Parker is the author of three blogs: Ruminations from and Unkempt Mind, Learn to Crochet - In Minutes a Day, and You Be the Editor.
For comments, questions, notes or suggestions; Mrs. Parker can be reached in the blog specific forums on the product information pages listed above or via email at unkemptruminations@comcast.net.
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