2016 was a personal worst year ever. I lost a good friend to suicide just a couple days before I learned we would lose our baby girl. It doesn’t matter that plenty of good things happened in 2016. I won’t remember them. I already don’t remember them.
2017 was supposed to be the year we completed our family.
2017 is the year I turn 40 – the age at which my husband and I decided long ago would mark the end of our baby-making journey, whether we had a baby or not.
2017 could still be a good year. Great, even, if I manage to get pregnant. But, I’ll settle for good. It could be good if I:
- Love myself.
- Come to terms with all the shit recently bestowed upon me.
- Take care of myself, physically and emotionally.
- Remain open to the good that can and will happen.
I guess those are sort of my resolutions, though I’m not typically a resolutions sort of person. These are things I need to do, though. They aren’t really optional, unless I want to have a very bad year.