something profound about Lent and my life and our dual paths right now that seem to have merged for a time. I want this time after our loss to be filled with really amazing and powerful moments where we work toward a simpler life, cleansed of our bad habits, and are ready to open ourselves -- to Easter and a risen Christ and at the same time to another child in this family.
But I cannot. I try every day, and every night I realize that I am stunningly human -- with the frailties and impatience and laziness that makes me so. I realize that this is okay, I do, and that in the struggling we learn something. By recognizing those faults, I can rail against them -- fight my anxiety and need for control and impatience. . . and I realize that this journey isn't simply one of forty days but one of a lifetime.
So today, I breathe deeply and set my goals high: Water the lawn, chase the children, make some Kool-Aid, and take a nap.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Time and tide
I lay in bed this morning at 4:40 a.m. considering my life. Or, rather, since it was 4:45 and I had to be up at 5:25, I was considering the pesky issue of time. While 45 minutes may have been enough time to warrant dozing off again, I wasn't convinced that 35 minutes was worthy of spending trying to sleep when I was certain I'd only wallow in anger about having only 35 minutes to sleep for approximately thirty of those minutes.
For those who don't yet know, Tim and I are expecting our third child. This came as a surprise and not on our timeline -- and there, again, is that pesky issue of time. We decided in February that we would abandon the topic of more children - as we had time to consider it in the future, neither of us having reached our randomly-assigned "upper limit" for childbearing. Twenty-four hours later, or so it seemed, we were staring at a test that said "Pregnant". It was clear as day, which is good since we didn't believe the other two strikingly dark plus signs that stared up at us from the cheaper tests.
But pregnancy brings me back to my opener, as for me, it seems, pregnancy comes hand-in-hand with pitiful sleep and early-morning insomnia. During those hours I seem to toss and turn and think about all of the potentials of this pregnancy, the what ifs. I desperately seek to speed through these first thirteen weeks to the relative safety of the second trimester.
But today felt different. Or, rather, I felt different. I don't want to speed through anything - if parenthood's taught me anything, there's no "relative safety" in pregnancy. Seeing the experiences of those around me, it feels as though it's a miracle babies are born at all -- so many of my friends and loved ones have had really difficult experiences with pregnancy. Additionally, we have no intentions of having any more children after this one. Three seems to be our limit. As such, I can't help but feel that this process -- crazy and miserable and miraculous as it is, ought be enjoyed and savored, not fretted about and rushed.
As always, it's impossible for me to let go, give in, and enjoy the moment, but I know I will. Micromanagement won't make me any more or less worried, but it certainly will make this process less enjoyable.
And who knows, I might actually be able to roll over tomorrow morning at 4:47 and go back to sleep.
Edited:
Perhaps fretting and rushing were called for. Perhaps not. Our pregnancy ended yesterday (3/8). For whatever reason, I'm not sure. I am glad, however, to have enjoyed as many moments as we had laboring under the impression that we would, in fact, welcome another child in October. As we are not, we again adjust and savor the two miracles that are here, no matter how ear-splittingly loud they happen to be.
For those who don't yet know, Tim and I are expecting our third child. This came as a surprise and not on our timeline -- and there, again, is that pesky issue of time. We decided in February that we would abandon the topic of more children - as we had time to consider it in the future, neither of us having reached our randomly-assigned "upper limit" for childbearing. Twenty-four hours later, or so it seemed, we were staring at a test that said "Pregnant". It was clear as day, which is good since we didn't believe the other two strikingly dark plus signs that stared up at us from the cheaper tests.
But pregnancy brings me back to my opener, as for me, it seems, pregnancy comes hand-in-hand with pitiful sleep and early-morning insomnia. During those hours I seem to toss and turn and think about all of the potentials of this pregnancy, the what ifs. I desperately seek to speed through these first thirteen weeks to the relative safety of the second trimester.
But today felt different. Or, rather, I felt different. I don't want to speed through anything - if parenthood's taught me anything, there's no "relative safety" in pregnancy. Seeing the experiences of those around me, it feels as though it's a miracle babies are born at all -- so many of my friends and loved ones have had really difficult experiences with pregnancy. Additionally, we have no intentions of having any more children after this one. Three seems to be our limit. As such, I can't help but feel that this process -- crazy and miserable and miraculous as it is, ought be enjoyed and savored, not fretted about and rushed.
As always, it's impossible for me to let go, give in, and enjoy the moment, but I know I will. Micromanagement won't make me any more or less worried, but it certainly will make this process less enjoyable.
And who knows, I might actually be able to roll over tomorrow morning at 4:47 and go back to sleep.
Edited:
Perhaps fretting and rushing were called for. Perhaps not. Our pregnancy ended yesterday (3/8). For whatever reason, I'm not sure. I am glad, however, to have enjoyed as many moments as we had laboring under the impression that we would, in fact, welcome another child in October. As we are not, we again adjust and savor the two miracles that are here, no matter how ear-splittingly loud they happen to be.
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