Sunday 6 March 2016

Two years ago and today

I was surfing through some old blog entries, and there was March 6, 2014.

I really didn't know how today would go. I've alternated between cautious hope and grim conviction of doom. I also know it's still early days and nothing is guaranteed.  But - but - there is something alive in me and I saw it!!  AlivealivealivealiveALIVE!!! I have (in the privacy of my sometimes cynical mind) been calling this "my horrible miracle pregnancy." Today though, I'm feeling the miracle part more than the horrible part. And I'm grateful.

It was the day I saw AJ's heartbeat for the first time on the ultrasound. That heartbeat confirmed that she was viable and that we might really, truly have a little baby in a few months. There would be plenty of anxiety in between those two points in time, of course, but that ultrasound carved out a little space to hope and dream. Two years later, that space has grown to encompass our whole lives, every thought we have for the present and future. And the past, too.

I can't say I love AJ more now than I did then, because from the moment we knew of her embryonic existence, love was infinite and for always. If I ever doubted that I knew it in the days when I feared we were losing her and grief crashed through every flimsy defense I had built around my heart.

But now I know love in a different way. It's the difference between looking up at the stars in the night sky, wondering if out there there's another planet where life might thrive, and if we'll ever get there, and actually landing in that new world and exploring it. Now I can love in the language of cuddles, and soft skin, and new baby words, and first steps, and yes, sometimes exhaustion and frustration and confusion.

AJ and I yesterday, March 2016

American Authors is the band I associate with AJ at the moment. Their sound is so exuberant and youthful. I don't quite identify with their music myself: although I like it a lot, I feel that at this point in my life I need something a little more....mature? cynical? dark?  More something. But at the same time listening takes me back to that point in youth where you feel that time is on your side and the gift of that knowledge is flexibility, resilience, fearlessness, boundless energy.....Of course you don't have to totally lose those things with age, but one's perspective changes.  It's a give and take.

This is a beautiful song, called simply, "Love". It's a song about going through a difficult time, and having faith that things will change for the better.




"'Cause one day we're gonna come back
And laugh at it all
One day we'll look at the past
With love, love
One day we're gonna come back
And relive those thoughts
One day we'll look at the past
With love, love
With love, love"

What a beautiful promise: that one day we'll look back at the past with love. Not necessarily without sadness or pain, but with love.

I wish that for everyone.

8 comments:

  1. Great post and a beautiful photo of you and AJ!

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    1. Thanks! We would walk almost daily when I was on mat leave; I miss those walks and I'm happy that we were able to get out again yesterday, and hopefully today.

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  2. I was so scared for basically my whole pregnancy; I don't know if it was the years of trying and failing that made me afraid, of knowing too much, or what, but I was never convinced that A would get through the pregnancy safely. The ultrasounds, the growing belly, and the movements in utero were tangible evidence that we were having a baby. And I loved him then, but the physical expressions of love from me to him and vice versa are so very, very sweet. I'm glad that you got to celebrate this anniversary with your adorable girl.

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    1. Ditto. I love the physicality of parenthood too. Although always with an aching awareness of how fragile life is.

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  3. Awesome and live the pic too! It is so curious to look back on past posts and reflect. I am all too aware of the fragility of life with my dad passing young and my work in a hospital. Cherishing daily life is something I am always trying to do, even when the whining and poop are abundant.

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    1. Yes, I've always liked having a record of the past to compare. Memory is surprisingly unreliable: but the words can capture the moment. I didn't realize you lost your dad early. Sorry to hear that: losing a love one is a reminder that time does not stand still. I agree about cherishing daily life!

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  4. This made me cry, just a little bit, in the best of all possible ways. What a beautiful way to commemorate a moment of uncertainty that resulted in your beautiful girl, and that last piece was just something else. I am so looking forward to looking back from a different perspective myself. Gorgeous post.

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    1. Thanks :-) I also am excited for the day when you and all the people who are waiting can look back with love. I know it can be so hard to feel love and acceptance in the meantime.

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