But I'm not. And I have nothing profound to say - but that it has come round again - 9/11. My daughter is on the eve of her 8th birthday and I realized that while my child was not born on this infamous day, in my mind - it was the day that she became completely, perfectly real. Not that I wasn't aware of her humanity prior to that in the womb - but in that moment, as we all watched the planes and the flames and the destruction and the fear - the enormity of parenthood hit me. How could I pretend to protect the child I was carrying? How could I think this was a good idea? How could I look at the world around me and the inability to control absolutely anything and try to raise her in it?
Yet, obviously, raising her in this world was all I could do. And while I continued to worry until she actually arrived on Sept 15, in the moments of labor and the moments of birth, I worried only that she would be healthy and perfect. And in all of the moments that have occurred with the two of us since, I've found each day has a worry of its own. A worry to keep her healthy and perfect, a worry to teach her all that is right, a worry to get to school on time and with lunch packed. Of course, I find myself worrying about bigger things of which I have no control, worrying is in my nature and I find it as easy as breathing. In fact, I often find it easier, for when my worries add up, my breathing gets kind of wonky. But for the most part, each day has enough complications and worry that leaves little time for the large, far reaching worries.
So while I will never forget the fears from that day - I believe when I am 110, I'll look at the images of that day and be instantly transported to those moments - and while today is not actually Drama Queen's birthday - I have decided that in my mind, I am going to focus on celebrating her life today - because her life is a gift - healthy, beautiful and perfect.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Amputation
So, its been a while. And I apologize. I don't know how many times one of the kiddos has done something insanely adorable and I've thought. . "I need to blog that". . .and then haven't. So to all 3 people who read this regularly - I'm sorry. But the truth is - I've been fighting the urge to tell you all everything that is going on. But no more, - you get the good and the bad from now on. Consider yourself warned.
I imagine its like watching a small appendage turn black with gangrene and begin to die. Knowing that it will have to be amputated, yet denying it at the same moment. Giving yourself up to insane hope that something, somehow will change and it will be saved. Then ignoring the truth as it meets you at the corners of your life. Head down, pushing against a relentless wind, trying to pretend that its just a bad day, or your general pessimistic nature.
And then the decision to amputate is reached. . .the denial is broken, the truth is overwhelming and crushing and the thought of the knife slicing through the skin and severing you from that disease is both nauseating and thrilling. Once you've honestly entertained the thought, it refuses to leave. You find yourself focusing on it as you try to sleep, and the thoughts keeping you awake. When sleep finally comes, the first thing that pushes through the morning fog in the morning is the same thought - coming at you before you've found your bearings and immediately sending you once again into the tailspin.
Even as you set your mind to do this, you find yourself contemplating the future without this appendage. How will it feel? How will you function? Someone calls and asks about your appendage and you immediately, instinctively lie to keep this quiet. You think of ways each morning that you should use your appendage and then remember that it is gone. And every emotion washes over you again like an ocean storm that refuses to let you breathe. You cry when you see people with their healthy appendages, when you meet people who don't know about your loss, when you have to tell people about the loss. Every time you tell someone new, its like peeling off the scab and digging in the wound with a blunt object and the pain, white hot and unrelenting comes at you again.
I'll let you know when the phantom feelings go away, when the pain has eased, the raw wound healed.
I imagine its like watching a small appendage turn black with gangrene and begin to die. Knowing that it will have to be amputated, yet denying it at the same moment. Giving yourself up to insane hope that something, somehow will change and it will be saved. Then ignoring the truth as it meets you at the corners of your life. Head down, pushing against a relentless wind, trying to pretend that its just a bad day, or your general pessimistic nature.
And then the decision to amputate is reached. . .the denial is broken, the truth is overwhelming and crushing and the thought of the knife slicing through the skin and severing you from that disease is both nauseating and thrilling. Once you've honestly entertained the thought, it refuses to leave. You find yourself focusing on it as you try to sleep, and the thoughts keeping you awake. When sleep finally comes, the first thing that pushes through the morning fog in the morning is the same thought - coming at you before you've found your bearings and immediately sending you once again into the tailspin.
Even as you set your mind to do this, you find yourself contemplating the future without this appendage. How will it feel? How will you function? Someone calls and asks about your appendage and you immediately, instinctively lie to keep this quiet. You think of ways each morning that you should use your appendage and then remember that it is gone. And every emotion washes over you again like an ocean storm that refuses to let you breathe. You cry when you see people with their healthy appendages, when you meet people who don't know about your loss, when you have to tell people about the loss. Every time you tell someone new, its like peeling off the scab and digging in the wound with a blunt object and the pain, white hot and unrelenting comes at you again.
I'll let you know when the phantom feelings go away, when the pain has eased, the raw wound healed.
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