don't no why, but no matter how many times life throws us a curve ball, we are always shocked when the next one comes.

I was married for one month when I found out I was pregnant. It was a majoy curve ball. Totally unplanned. A mistake. Frank looked happy. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. "This was not in the plan!" I cried.

"This is God's way of saying that we are so good together that we should share our love with someone else." Frank said. Literally. That's what he said. It was then that I really began to see the kind of man I married. He feels that as long as we are together things will work out. Love is what matters. That's really who he is. And while I did feel a lot better, I am not that good a person. I continued to freak out.

"What will people think? We just got married! They will be counting on their fingers!" I moaned.
"Joanne, we were engaged for a year. What are they going to think? You held the baby in for 18 months? Who cares what people think? We know the truth."
There it was again. Logic. It was of no use to me.

We arrived at the OB/GYN and I went back by myself. I took another pregnancy test and I chatted nervously with the nurse. She checked the test and said, "You're pregnant!" and I busted out crying. "I thought you said you were married!" she responded as if that was all that mattered. I told you, I'm not that good a person. "Four weeks!" was my teary reply. She went to get Frank and we both went in to see the doctor.

The doctor sits us down to talk. She says that she understands we just got married and this is not what we planned, but we were young and in love and a baby is good news. "I have couples who come to see me that literally say, Doctor, I don't care what you have to do, I'd let you cut off my arm if it meant we could have a baby.' A baby is good news."

Years later I would come to understand that way of thinking.
At that point though, I felt like I was on a runaway train.

Then I started spotting.

Thanksgiving Day: Pain. Emergency Room. Put your feet up and wait.

Monday comes. A blood test. The numbers are don't look good.

The baby's gone.

DNC. Really gone.

I'm young they tell me. It's nature's way they tell me. And just like that the train comes to a screeching halt and my life changes back again.

Only not entirely.

Life went on after the miscarriage. We lived and worked in New York for a few years before making our big move to Ohio. We began to build a life here.

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