When I was growing up I absolutely loved choose your own ending books. I loved reading a book and exploring the alternative endings, one small change, one small choice and the whole story would be entirely different. It's as if all these stories ran parallel to each other and it was my job to navigate them all. Some endings I loved and some I would never choose again. I loved that I could always go back. I could start over and answer a question differently and arrive at a whole new ending.
Sometimes I lay in bed and I imagine my own parallel life, the one where Mateo is alive and well and growing. I choose a different ending. My days are filled with diapers and crying and cute little baby things and kisses. I lay down to sleep exhausted from being a mom, not from wanting to be one, and I know that my baby boy is sleeping sweetly nearby. I can see him breathe. In and out. An alternate ending.
I've been struggling with making some big life decisions lately. But then again haven't I learned by now that all decisions are just that? I find myself unable to choose a trajectory for my life. My life has been hijacked by chance. By fate. By nature. So now I have to make choices for this life and I can't bring myself to because I am not done mourning the life I want. I can never have that life. I could have a million other children but I can never have that life. I can never be that Ana with that Mateo who breathes in and out. In and out. So I make choices for this Ana. It is hard to get excited about anything in this life. If I could find one thing that even came close to bringing me joy and excitement I would pursue it in a heartbeat. I didn't just lose my son. I lost a part of my soul. I am not whole. I am not happy.
What I am- is trying.
