Posted by: Louise | January 1, 2011

lazy river

I have lost years of my life and I don’t mind. There was a time when life rushed by and I was so absorbed in it the days disappeared into weeks and months and years.

I met K. I married K. The Giraffe Princess was born. K and I now family. Giraffe Princess talked. She was sick. She got better and then Baby No.2 was on the way. Then Baby No.2 was gone. I cried. I mourned. But then Astro Boy was hurtling down from the stars. And before I knew it, I was pushing him out, putting all my life force behind the act. And then he was here and I was high on hormones, mother love and utter and complete satisfaction.

We thought about another baby. For months we tried. For months I cried. And then, on the last chance with the highest dose of clomid, Little Boy Racer began. Nine months later he was here, a whistle stop labour, appearing in our midst right in this corner of this room of our house where I now sit at the computer. If I close my eyes I can feel the calm warm energy of that night in late June. I can hear the music. He came too quickly for nearly everything – no gas for me, no nice soft towels for him, but as far as perfect moments go………..

I look back on it all and it is only highlights. Highlights, not because I wasn’t in tune with what was going on, but, because I was so in tune, my life absorbed me. It whisked me along with it’s current and that was good.

I have always been a thinker – a deep thinker, my family would say. There is always something about life to mull over. For years I felt like I was not quite in tune with life, like there was this no man’s land between me and life. There I was on one side with all my thoughts and there was everyone else on the other side just getting on with life, making friends, having boyfriends, studying, working, just being.

I remember learning to drive in my early twenties. It was the first time I had undertaken something that demanded so much concentration there was no space for mulling, for thinking my deep thoughts. I had to be totally engaged with it and it felt good. Somewhere in that time I took a risk, slipped into the lazy river and let go.

Then, a few years ago, K got sick, really, really sick and I began to mull again. So, what life changing decisions have you been making? I asked K after he had been lying in his hospital bed for three weeks. That’s what you do when life trips you up isn’t it? Think about it all. Make some decisions. I don’t know what I expected him to say. He just looked at me and said, Louise, on a good day I’ve counted the tiles on the ceiling. I’m still getting my head around this. It was me who had been tripped up, by my husband’s sudden ill health, me who was questioning the unpredictability of life, me who was trying to hold it all together. He was sick, really, really sick. Living for him, being for him, right then and for some time to come, was being sick.

I haven’t lost any of the days or months since then. Life’s lazy river has had me in it’s rapids. I’ve been getting pulled under, spat up, lulled by brief calm and pulled under again and again until Saturday evening 9th May 2009 when we went to the maternity hospital for a reassurance scan. Since then we have been pulled down deeper than we ever thought possible, and simultaneously cast aside on to harsh and jagged rocks.

From this painful vantage point, I have watched as life has continued on for everyone, including me. I miss losing days and months. I miss lying on my back enjoying the feel of the water against my skin, rather than worrying about the speed of the current or what lies around the corner or how the current works in the first place or why it pulls some people one way and others another way, or whether knowing any of these things will ever help me enjoy the feel of the water against my skin again. I miss just being.

And that is it really. Sometimes writing a blog feels like maintaining that place on the rocks when I really want to be in the water. And so there is blog silence. Sometimes, and more so, when I write it is like finding a new way to swim – no answers, no reasons – but the water keeps flowing and I have to find a way to flow with it.

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Responses

  1. Whatever way you seek, I do hope you find it. I so love reading your words. Parenting through a loss is a rough and rocky terrain… thank you for sharing. I am in the midst of TTC again and facing 2 months of BFN’s. I saw my RE last week… and I don’t quite know what to do with the information we got there. Drugs or no drugs yet? It is a difficult question. Did you have any of the bad side effects from Clomid? Feel free to email me if you feel like sharing.

  2. I love reading your words and knowing you, even a little bit, through them. You say a lot with a little. That depth (deep thinking) you talked about is very evident; it was what drew me to your blog from the first.

    What do you believe about meaning and purpose? What meaning is behind all of this time in the rapids, or on the rocks? Or is there any…?

    Realize you may not have time or inclination to answer; still wondered what your thoughts would be, if you cared to share them.

    Thank you, as always, for sharing your writing and your “Louise-ness.”

    Cathy in Missouri


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