"I don't," he said.
I wasn't surprised. I figured he wouldn't like them. But I didn't care, he wasn't the one that was 8 weeks pregnant.
I wore them almost daily, revolving my outfits around my purple shoes. I wore white, pink and navy. The only other purple item I owned was a scarf and I carried that with me, to wrap around my shoulders on the subway. I was able to wear my shoes all day at work and then walk home through the park on my way home without my feet aching at the end of the day.
They were the best shoes ever.
I remember wearing them on that day in early August. Walking up the block to my OB/GYNs office for my 16 week appointment. Dressed in all white and my purple shoes. I walked with confidence, excited to hear the heartbeat of the baby growing inside me.
I remember the look on my OB/GYNs face as she told me, there was no heartbeat to be heard.
I remember how heavy my feet felt walking out of the doctors office.
I remember the next day dressed in a navy blue dress and purple shoes walking alone to the hospital. Walking slowly, with my hand round my belly protecting the lifeless baby that needed to be removed.
I remember the echo of my purple shoes as I walked down the hospital hall.
And when it was all over, I remember The Husband slipping off my hospital socks one by one. I remember how gentle he was as he placed a purple shoe gingerly on each foot. And how he held me up and helped me walk; his arm around my waist and me leaning against him.
I remember putting those purple shoes in the closest and not wearing them for the rest of the summer.
Then the following summer, I reached into the closet and pulled out my purple shoes. And every morning, as I got dressed, I looked at those shoes, wondering if I could wear them. Even though I loved them. Even though I wanted to wear them. Even though I looked at them at least twice a week, only to put on another pair. As silly as it seemed, I was afraid to walk in my own shoes. And at the end of last summer, back in the closet they went.
This summer, once again, I pulled the purple shoes from my closet. Every morning, I dressed and looked over the shoes I longed to wear.
As I prepared for BlogHer, I shopped my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. I knew I wanted to wear my white dress and I needed to decide on a pair of shoes. They needed to be comfortable. I looked at my purple shoes, they would be perfect I thought. Except the Saturday I wanted to wear my white dress, marked two years since the day I lost the baby.
Could I wear them? Was I strong enough to walk in my own shoes?
I spent the last days of July and the first days of August crying myself to sleep. Fighting back tears on the subway, grateful to hide behind my big dark glasses. Going into the bathroom at work to collect myself. I wondered, why. I wondered how different my life would be, had the baby been born. Wondering how a baby would have changed our life? Would I be writing? I wondered what kind of brother The Boy would be?
On Saturday, August 4th, I slipped into my white eyelet cotton dress and stepped into my purple shoes. I looked at myself in the mirror for a long time. I have spent the last two years, trying to accept. Trying to forget. Trying to tell myself, these things happen for a reason. I just haven't figured out the reason.
I walked out my door wearing my purple shoes. The shoes felt a little lighter, it was my heart that was heavy.
I walked around BlogHer that Saturday, mostly alone, unable to focus on the sessions. None of it seemed important to me. Though hearing Katie & Soledad made me forget my sadness for a little while.
I went to the Serenity Suite for a few moments of quiet.
I wandered around, met up with some friends and waited to see another friend in the fashion show. And after the fashion show, I even danced.
I danced in the shoes I had been scared to walk in.
It was a little after midnight when I stepped out of the cab and walked up the block into my building. After walking around the whole day, after dancing into the night my feet didn't ache. And my heart felt a little lighter.
I remembered how much I loved my purple shoes and how happy they made me.
And I knew I could wear them again.
|Wearing my purple shoes for the 1st time in 2 years @BlogHer|