Wednesday, June 05, 2013

wherever you are

So it's been three weeks since this happened.

I haven't been back to work. The doctors gave me six weeks, but I didn't think I needed that long. I wanted to start work again this past Monday when Jon was going back, but I managed to catch some kind of respiratory virus that took away my voice and has left me coughing my lungs inside out. Plus there's post-pregnancy stuff happening physically, like achy pains and food coming out of me for a person who is not here to eat it. So maybe my body was telling me I needed a little more time.

For the last year, I yearned for a week at home with no responsibilities so I could do things like sew together the sweater I knit for our nephew that didn't get done by Christmas (which is fine, because he's still got a couple of years before he will be big enough to wear it) or finish a quilt I have all cut out for a friend whose child is already like 5 months old. I had even been dreaming of a week without new requests at work so I could finish all the half-completed tasks that keep getting shoved onto a back burner. Time to get our wedding album together, even. We already paid the pretty penny for it, but never signed off: I want to swap out some photos our photographer laid out (way too many shots of me). Coming up on our two-year anniversary, I don't know how our photographer will react if--and when--I redesign and ask him to change it.

But I didn't want that time like this. Never like this.

I need to take this empty, useless feeling and burn it into my heart to stop myself from ever wishing things were slow and dull so I could *do* stuff. Clearly I can only accomplish anything when my schedule is completely full. Not having anywhere to go apparently means sleep until 3 p.m. and watch television that I wouldn't be able to pass a quiz on a week later.

The thinking is what's really getting to me. I haven't had time alone for a long, long while, and generally I like it that way--the circus in my brain can sometimes be kind of scary. I'm trying to figure out what and why and how, and there are no answers.The only thing making this somewhat bearable is the love and support from family and friends.

In April, Ri and C's baby, Ari, turned a year old. I, in signature Cadiz fashion, couldn't get to the bookstore fast enough. I spent an entire afternoon in there, looking at every chewable board book that seemed entertaining. It is one of my favorite things to do. I walked out of there with an armful of books for Ari and one little book for our own baby.

At 17 weeks, a baby will be able to hear you, so it is encouraged that you talk, sing and read to them.

There were so many funny, cutesy books to choose from, but this is the one that I chose for our child's first book. Basically, it's about how no matter how old the baby is, where he or she may be, no matter the circumstances, my love will always find him or her. I rubbed my belly in the store and got teary-eyed. I couldn't have said it any better.

Yesterday would have been the 20-week mark of the pregnancy--we'd probably be having an ultrasound to finally find out the sex. But instead, I'm sitting here with this book, hoping that wherever our baby is, our love has indeed found its way there.


Lia said...

The love will never go away. And somehow baby books are full of beautiful sentiments.

You're entitled to some recovery time; you need it, emotionally and physically. If you push too hard, the pain is still there, and it comes out when you least expect it. I remember that during my divorce: I tried to pretend that I was fine, and I found myself literally crying at work. So don't think of it as empty or useless: you're accomplishing something important. It's just not something that you had on your to-do list, but it's still important.

Guyana-Gyal said...

What Lia says is so true: ...don't think of it as empty or useless: you're accomplishing something important. It's just not something that you had on your to-do list, but it's still important.

Lots of hugs (( ))

Alla said...

I agree with the ladies, take time off. Let things heel a little bit don't rush out there with open wounds that'll just prolong recovery. One day you'll read that book to baby's little brothers and sisters and tell them about their sibling they'll meet in haven.

Ananda Mind+Body said...

Exactly what alla said. What a lovely sentiment for a book and many more to come.

cadiz12 said...

i will most definitely read it to any other babies. its message is exactly how i feel.