Down I Go - Chapter 1

I’m writing this because I don’t want to. Because I know I have to if I’m to grow into the woman my younger self dreamed she could be. I wonder as I write this if you’ll perhaps accept my unspoken invitation to be more vulnerable and real in your life. It just so happens that honesty and humility are mighty full of richness. Let me get past my fear already and continue.

My name is Jamie Sullivan, and today is an anniversary for me. Surely this anniversary is not one to be celebrated – or is it. I’ll leave that for you to decide.

These last four years, 2013-2016, have been so very full for me. Mountains worth of gratitude, despair & celebration. January 24, 2013, I woke from surgery in an unfamiliar hospital room to a surgeon telling me, groggy still from sedation and shock, that “there was no point in saving my fallopian tube because the pregnancy was too far along. And now that that’s handled there will be no more pregnancies for us". At the age of 35, that would be my only pregnancy. That 8-week old embryo of mine would be my only biological child. Come now, let’s move along.

It was Christmas 2012 {just one month earlier}. I love Christmas. My lover and I decided we would honour one of the few remaining marriages that stood the test of time in our families – my parents. Rick & Jan married in a courtroom on Christmas Eve at the tender ages of 20 and 26 ten months before I was born. To honour their love, we too married on Christmas Eve. The temperature outside showed a brisk Canadian -28 C. My love and I were going to marry in a park, at -28 C, with a dog as our witness. I’m glad you have your own beliefs about marriage because I have my own too. I wanted the law to have no place in our vows and our sacred time clear of anyone’s opinions or preferences. Our love was ours to express, our commitment ours to hold dear. Our witness, my lover’s mother's dog aptly named spanky for her puppy like personality, was chosen for her unconditional love, her display of unconditional trust, and reckless joyful abandon.

My love and I, a unique man named Brady, dolled ourselves up in ski-doo suits, and dashing accessories called toques, mitts and scarves {-28 C}. Some would say we lacked tradition, but I trust the glowing warmth in our hearts as we exchanged personal to us vows under a snow covered pine tree, comfy in the fluffy prairie snow as Spanky played freely, indicated that we had indeed made the right choice for us. We told no one but Tiffany’s jewellery store and Brady’s mother, whose home we were visiting for Christmas. We returned from our snowy park wedding with rosy cheeks, sparkly rings on our fingers and grins that expressed our joy and elation. Celebrations that followed included cutting our Christmas tree, and the warmth of holiday baking, broken only by the stringing of twinkle lights. Christmas Eve 2012 was one of the first times in my life I completely honoured my own desires. Brady and I gave ourselves permission to promise our vows in our own way. It was truly perfect. And we both felt it. Two days later I stood in the kitchen in complete denial with two pregnancy sticks in my hand and Brady saying "yes Jamie, you're pregnant!" Until my dying day, I will remember my lover’s joyful teary eyed face (dropped jaw with a big ass Brady smile).  Finally, after three years I had finally brought the magic of life home for my lover – a man who’s deepest desire was to have little humans of his own and to be a good father & husband.

The next three years proved to be my unravelling. You see some people would be thrilled to know they could stop using birth control methods. Some would be thrilled to be saved from the parenthood trap. The perfection here is, like all good stories – my biggest, deepest, scariest fear since I could remember was that I would not be able to protect my children. Well, I couldn’t. As in all proper legends, I faced my biggest fear. I knew who I was in the world through my strong maternal personality – when the words the Dr. spoke translated into my sedated mind “no motherhood for you”, I lost any idea of who I was. Good thing I was a fighter. It is with great respect and humble offerings that I introduce you to a “Surrender Story” – a story I am certain we all know in some way. One about betrayal, magic, and the human heart. One girl’s experience of when heaven & earth collide.


The Surrender Story

When Heaven & Earth Collide

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