March 8, 2013

I am not a very complicated creature

It’s often around this time of year when it becomes most clear to me that I am not a very complicated creature. Basically, make the sun shine and all challenges seem conquerable. Today I dropped Harriet off at school and walked home without my hat on, there is more grass than snow on the ground, and we passed a woman who was walking down the street, sans mittens, reading a book. Even if I hadn’t spent the last week and a half much obsessed with the enormous lump upon my neck and riding an emotional roller coaster, I would still be finding this day to be one infused with hope and possibility. Even if I hadn’t spent the last week and a half much obsessed with the enormous lump upon my neck and riding an emotional roller coaster, I would still have found plenty to complain about during this time because these lingering winter weeks pre-spring are pretty brutal, and it would be around now, the no-hat day, when I start thinking that maybe everything is going to be survivable after all.

The thing about emotional roller coasters though is that they’re not very stable. I’ve had a couple of good days in the past week or so during which I’ve thought that I’ve got a handle on everything, only to find myself profoundly disappointed the next day when all outcomes seemed quite terrifying again. (Interestingly, these next days were always grey and dreary.) For anyone who has had a life in which things have happened, this will not be all that surprising, but as I tend to spend most of my time at home and contented, delighted with pouring tea from a red teapot, I’m not so used to twists and turns. I’m more than a little uncomfortable with the idea that today’s spring-time high is going to have to be come down from at some point. I am looking forward to having my husband on holiday next week and all the fun things we’re going to get up to, but then there is a biopsy in the middle of that week and I think that the wait for results will drive me out of my mind, spring or no spring. I am so afraid of that phone call.

But I am also looking forward to Thursday, the day after the biopsy, because I have a midwife’s appointment and near-constant kicks in the ribs make me quite confident that Baby is thriving. I want to go to the midwife’s, that wonderful place where all is so healthy and normal. I now find myself longing for the baby’s birth, in a way I never thought I would due to my slight aversion to newborn people. I am no longer dreading all the trauma and turmoil of birth and a new baby because it’s healthy, normal trauma and turmoil. I want to be out of my mind because it’s four a.m. and my nipples are chapped. Who ever would imagined that anything would bring me to this point. Twists and turns indeed; life is funny.

But in light of the sun’s shine, life also seems very good. Is it embarrassing to disclose how much I am enjoying reading On the Banks of Plum Creek with my family each evening, and how inspired I am by Charles and Caroline Ingalls’ courage? We will get through this, neck lumps, grasshopper plagues, chapped nipples and all. There are more sunny, wonderful days to be had.