21/04/2024
The Blue Dress
Inspired by Emily Kingsley’s “Welcome to Holland”, dedicated
to all my prenatal diagnosis sisters, and, of course, Cade
As long as I can remember, I had been dreaming of wearing a silver dress. I’d watched countless women before me, all wearing their own special variations of the silver dress. I’d sit on the sidelines, watching, waiting for my turn, envisioning what it would be like for me. Sometimes, I would have a chance to hold one of these silver dresses when the other women weren’t wearing them. The dresses were each precious, beautiful, silver, and perfect.
At night, I’d lay awake and think of how it would feel to hold my own silver dress in my hands someday, to feel its smooth satin fabric, and run my fingers over the intricate floral embroidery. The billowing tule skirt, layers upon layers of historical validity, ready to be mine. The tiny sparkling sequins flashing promises of sweet moments and bright futures. The little glass beads each holding a moment of great pride.
How I longed to have a silver dress of my own and wondered when it would be my turn.
At last, one morning, there it was. My invitation. In nine months, I was finally going to wear the silver dress I’d been dreaming of. My heart overflowed with joy as I secretly celebrated this amazing gift I had just been given.
After weeks of waiting, each day more agonizingly long than the one before, it was my turn to find out more about my silver dress. Even though I wasn’t to wear it for months, this early reveal was to be a glorious moment and I could not stop smiling.
When I arrived, I was greeted with warmth and cheer. Everyone knew how lucky I was and what a joyful occasion this was to be. However, the mood quickly changed from one of jubilation to concern. Like a heavy dark curtain, the mood fell, hitting the floor like a forever closed door. With a cautious tone, I was delivered the news that my dress was not silver, it was probably going to be blue. Also, it most likely was going to be a different style, instead of the signature ball gown style of the silver dresses. It would not be satin, it might not have beautiful embroidery, glass beads, and sequins. At least not in the same places or the same amount. It might even have a hole that would need mending.
Hearing this news, I sat stunned, shattered. It was now dark behind that curtain. My hopes and dreams, once light and airy, were now heavy and weighted. I had never worn a blue dress, nor could I picture myself in one. I knew the ball gown style would fit me. I’d never worn any other style of dress. I’d seen a few women wear different colors and styles of dress from afar, but I never gave them or their dresses any further thought afterward.
Over the next six months, I tried to prepare myself to wear this blue dress. No one could give me any definitive answers on what my dress was going to be like. All I knew was that the satin and silver color were gone, and all those other beautiful perfect silver dresses I had seen my family and friends wear, my dress was going to be different. I was scared, the light was off, the curtain was drawn, and it was dark. I no longer pictured the silver dress. I didn’t know what to envision. So, where the silver dress once hung in my mind, now only a bare hanger remained, and in darkness, I waited.
During that time, I started seeking out the women in colored dresses. As I met them, I realized that there were a lot more of them than I previously thought. Each one had a different story and wore a slightly different color and style dress. Surprisingly, all of them loved their dresses and assured me that I would too. This seemed foreign to me, and although not convinced, it gave me hope. I clung to their stories and stared at pictures of them in their different dresses, smiling. I looked hard and long, straining to see my face in theirs as I tried to picture myself wearing a dress like theirs.
At last, it was time for me to see my blue dress for the first time. Now, I had no choice but to put it on.
With a mix of fear and anticipation, I finally was able to lay eyes on my dress sitting across the room from me. Even in the darkness, my dress shimmered back at me. I could see that the blue color was more like a robin's egg blue, it reminded me of spring and rebirth. The blue matched my eyes. I reached out and touched its fabric, silk, both delicate and rich. The dress was not a ball gown style but a sheath, clinging to the hanger, draping beautifully off the shoulders. Delicate embroidery kissed the neckline and below the bodice. True, it was not in the same places as the silver dresses, but it took my breath away. It did have beads and sequins, but they were in different places, they were perfectly placed, and they twinkled back at me as if smiling, ready to reveal a great secret.
As I slowly stepped into my dress for the first time, the curtain fell and the sun beamed. The darkness scattered. My dress was magnificent. It fit me perfectly and it radiated light. It did have a tiny hole, but that was quickly stitched up. In the process, I learned that all dresses can come with holes, no matter the color.
Instead of a generous skirt covered with layers of silver tulle, my blue dress clung to my frame, revealing my true shape. Parts of me that were hidden now revealed. My dress was unashamed and unapologetic.
I had never felt more comfortable and beautiful at the same time. I was exposed. It was authentic, empowering, and raw. This dress was made for me. A special one-of-a-kind gift, it instantly became treasured.
Everyone loved my blue dress, and it drew attention wherever I went. I had to be ready to stand out, take ownership of this different dress, and I did. People marveled at the dress’s simple elegance. It didn’t scratch or poke in the same places as the silver dresses. People wanted to hold it, to touch it, the silk fabric was so soft. Because of its silhouette, my movements in it were slightly different, my gait slower but more distinct, more confident, it added to the dresses appeal.
The blue dress changed me. In the places I was weak, to wear this dress, I had to be strong. When the darkness scattered, so did the shadows lurking deep within my crevices, questioning and doubtful. I had greatly underestimated who I was and who I was meant to be.
I was grateful and humbled. I was proud. As I walked through life in my blue dress the women in silver dresses and the other colored dresses celebrated me. Everyone’s dress occasionally needed mending, some in different places than others, but in that way, my blue dress and the silver dresses were the same. A dress was always a dress. This tribe of women in other colored dresses was small but vibrant, fierce, and loyal. It was a secret club, and the blue dress was my ticket-in. Anything I aspired to be; I could become.
With time, I slowly found that it was easier to be extraordinary when I was a shining blue light in a sea of silver. The blue dress was not a limitation, but an invitation for transformation. All you must do is be willing to step in and see where a dress different from the rest will take you.
- Megan Uotila
