07 May 2014
Through The Blur
"Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest."
Many mornings when I wake up before her I put my hand on her chest and feel the rise and fall of her inhale and exhale. I thank her for choosing me, for choosing us. I've been telling her every day for the past several weeks, "Thank you for being my wish come true." She always gets a sly smile and replies with, "You're welcome!"
I would love to be able to say I was the most optimistic person alive when our girl was growing inside of me. However, it was tough. So tough. There were so many unknowns and I had to be extremely careful not to drown in it all. It was a lot of work to mentally prepare myself for all possibilities, including having to do dialysis during everything. It was an eerie space; to be filled to the brim with hope, and yet cautious with dreaming ahead and doing emotional work to be strong enough to handle it if it all fell apart. That joy? Yes it was incredible deep and sharp and often left me raw. I emotionally retreated from most people during my pregnancy because I felt like I simply couldn't make them understand the weight of what I was feeling.
Today I mentally pinch myself (it is possible, trust me). She's here. She four. I'm here. I'm thirty. My transplanted kidney is still kicking ass and taking names. I'm running around to playgroup and ballet. Did I create this life with all the wishing I did as a kid?
Our little miracle family is thriving and sometimes juggling extremely normal obstacles like how to manage bedtime routines, decide which preschool to pick, and how do you balance running two businesses and create time for date nights for yourselves as a couple. The everyday choices both hold a tremendous amount of space in my heart, but also feel outrageously liberating because...hey, I'm here to do this. I'm alive to make these decisions as a mother. And as a wife. It is a freaking beautiful dynamic.
I suppose what I'm attempting to convey this rainy May night, is that I'm learning to love the ordinary decisions and the mundane mountains of laundry. Because the years and years and years upon years of struggle and uncertainty, when my health messes were stacked higher than I could see, that is all what brought me here to this humdrum heaven.
at 9:42 PM