...Buuuuuuut my ascent up that proverbial hill (five years to go!) to being the 35 year old mum of a certified two year old still has a couple of days left to throw at me.
What a month. August - that high holiday month of Wright-lady festivity - entered like a sweaty barmaid staggering home after a rough night. The predicted WEATHER EVENT of our blissful PNW summer season!! Always something. Always riveting. Always occasion for obsessively reloading weather station discussions, Cliff Mass and various news sections.We started with predictions of heatwave and then somebody jumped the shark, went rogue, blew off piste, and otherwise said heck to it all and unleashed Smokezilla (credit to Cliff Mass). Originally, it was anticipated that temperatures would reach into the mid-nineties mid-week. That was not to pass, but it left us better prepared, since we finally relented and installed the air conditioners in our respective bedrooms.
The heat and smoke gradually sidled into town last Tuesday. I took Chaya on our last anticipated outdoor excursion to her first official spray park. Inevitably she spent more time exploring my car and running up and down the slide than the actual park. Once she'd wet through her swim diaper and I'd changed her into ordinary clothes, she naturally developed an interest, but mostly for running near the water and fleeing.
She got a little wet, then returned to the car. It was not the bath-substitute I'd hoped it would be, but it was fun.
It was also my last "good day" for a good stretch.
Along came Wednesday: The Day of Smoke. Followed by Thursday, 2 Smoke 2 Furious with a nice twist of upper eighties to complement that completely sealed off home. Things weren't great by Friday. They cleared a bit by Saturday and Sunday in time for an outdoor birthday party in Bellingham.
Crappiness resurged, although the temperatures were lower and things started to clear up overnight before getting worse again.
Let's just say it didn't sit well with me. I'm not sure what conflagration of misfortunes were exactly to blame: minor dysentery, heartburn, a pulled pectoral muscle, insomnia, general sensitivity to poor air quality, heat intolerance... It was pretty brutal. I think there were about 3 days running where I seriously had to contemplate whether this was the kind of thing somebody goes to the ER for. I'd say every time the only reason I didn't was because it seemed like it would be a huge hassle to screw up a baby nap and possibly be forced to stay overnight and maybe I'd just wait and see how I felt after a half hour in the air conditioner. And I still wasn't sure it was right call. Lest we forget, I also have been dealing with a wonky lumbar area, for which I'm just starting PT. And for fun, I seem to have twisted my knee. Humpty Dumpty momma was getting less and less fun. And yet I persisted. Entertaining a two year old and keeping a house maintained is kind of a biological imperitive.
The smoke finally cleared. Sadly, I felt even worse! Or, I felt generally better, except that the times I felt worse, I felt a lot worse. Three nights of really uncomfortable insomnia with chest discomfort. Plus a good dose of peri-syncope and parasthesia (I dun' lerned myself some medical terms) on the last night when I got up to consult with my husband.
And...
We celebrated Chaya's almost birthday by revisiting her origin story: BACK TO THE HOSPITAL.
The official discharge papers posit that my heart rate is always alarmingly slow and that isn't a problem alone but maybe it makes things look a lot worse when I nearly pass out in hallways because I'm possibly dehydrated... Or I have the same thing as my dad, to the extent that his sick sinus syndrome began with similar symptoms. But it isn't an imminent threat to my life if I keep taking it easy (har har).
Labs didn't show any markers of heart attack, so after about eighteen hours of prodding, echocardiograming and a ton of waiting, I was released back into the wild with some paperwork and imminently scheduled cardio tests for all kinds of birthday fun.
Andrew is jealous that I may get to actually discover my VO2 Max in the upcoming treadmill stress test.
They didn't find anything clinically off with my electrolytes but after several saline bags being dripped into my very tender veins, I definitely have regained several pounds of water weight from a pretty concerning pre-admission low and I feel thousands of percentages better. Thus I've concocted my own electrolyte drink based on the cardiologist's recommendation. Hopefully that will keep things from slip-sliding down the water spout for a while longer.
Andrew is jealous that I may get to actually discover my VO2 Max in the upcoming treadmill stress test.
They didn't find anything clinically off with my electrolytes but after several saline bags being dripped into my very tender veins, I definitely have regained several pounds of water weight from a pretty concerning pre-admission low and I feel thousands of percentages better. Thus I've concocted my own electrolyte drink based on the cardiologist's recommendation. Hopefully that will keep things from slip-sliding down the water spout for a while longer.
At any rate, this all tanked our original happy baby birthday preview plans. Chaya seems to have had more than enough fun, regardless.
Instead of going to the County Fair, Chaya got to wake up with daddy (my first morning ever of not being there to greet her in the morning was very bittersweet for me, but she's a big girl now and rolled with the novelty). Then she got to watch YouTube BEFORE breakfast. She got to entirely skip that pesky table and toothbrushing in exchange for breakfast on the run - daddy's cafeteria potatoes, a snack pack olio of favorite foods and a very beleaguered banana. Played and munched in a room full of beeping objects, strange remotes, chatty beds, doting medical experts, and her maternal grandparents. She even got a park break between meals. And then instead of a birthday venture to the local tea room with Grandpa Ian, Chaya got to eat very sweet tomato sauce from Grandpa Ian and climb gramma Pam's pull out hide a bed while dressing her giraffe in the new clothes Grandpa Ian had bought her. Only thing she really missed was mommy's midnight ambulance to the hospital. She would have liked that I bet. Next time... Next time... She was pretty sold. I think I might need to reserve a room at the hospital for her third birthday party at this rate.
And... whew...
It's been a surreal little experience all around. Before falling into the wall, I was having those reflections of gratitude and awe at having been able to be a part of Chaya's life for this long. When she was nine months, I wrote her a letter lest she not grow up with me under any number of circumstances. As we approach, two years, I don't have a letter, but I do also recognize that her memories of me will still be largely instinctive and retellings of stories others have told.
And no matter what, she'll continue becoming a different Chaya every few days.
And I think there's something about a life lived where you can't have regrets, per se, because of where you've ended up. I don't want to relive all those slices of my life. I don't miss them or ever want to go back. I've done those things. They are completed. And I wouldn't want to ever try to do it over differently. I won't say there aren't lingering questions and little pangs, but if somebody gave me the key to do it all over again "right" I would toss that key and go back to breakfast.
It's been a surreal little experience all around. Before falling into the wall, I was having those reflections of gratitude and awe at having been able to be a part of Chaya's life for this long. When she was nine months, I wrote her a letter lest she not grow up with me under any number of circumstances. As we approach, two years, I don't have a letter, but I do also recognize that her memories of me will still be largely instinctive and retellings of stories others have told.
And no matter what, she'll continue becoming a different Chaya every few days.
And I think there's something about a life lived where you can't have regrets, per se, because of where you've ended up. I don't want to relive all those slices of my life. I don't miss them or ever want to go back. I've done those things. They are completed. And I wouldn't want to ever try to do it over differently. I won't say there aren't lingering questions and little pangs, but if somebody gave me the key to do it all over again "right" I would toss that key and go back to breakfast.
Because any single change may have interfered with the existence of this Chaya.
What if I was healthy enough to be in a good relationship with somebody other than Andrew? Say I had the courage to confess my feelings to the big first loves and all the adversity that seemed insurmountable actually hadn't been so? All when I was younger? Before I had issues with fertility? What if I had other children?
What if I was healthy enough to be in a good relationship with somebody other than Andrew? Say I had the courage to confess my feelings to the big first loves and all the adversity that seemed insurmountable actually hadn't been so? All when I was younger? Before I had issues with fertility? What if I had other children?
I'd love them all too, but the absence of Chaya would hang like a specter over even the most prosperous of circumstances.
If I'm told tomorrow that I have no more time with Chaya, I would rage. I have a healthy appetite for life, but losing the future of Chaya's life would anger me most. It still, however, would be worth it.
And instead of a letter, I'm just going to leave a little prayer. for her. I suspect even in the likelihood she'll be plagued with mommy for many years to come, this mommy and this Chaya will be many evolutions past. So I send this to the future. It's an approximation of the prayer I say to her at bedtime each night.
To your nose as it pulls in soothing, calming oxygen. And presses out the dust, the dirt, the frustration, and the tension of the day. Pulling in calm. Pushing out tension.
Energy to your mouth, so full of words. As your tongue becomes moist and heavy like a sponge. Your lips uncurl. Your teeth healthy. When you wake tomorrow may you be ever more able to say the words you need to say. May you speak with the wisdom, truth, kindness and insight.
Energy to your throat as soothing air passes in and tension rushes out. Calm in. Tension out. May you find your voice. May you sing your song. May those that hear it, stop and wish to sing along.
Energy to your lungs, puffing out your chest, wide with air, then squeeeeeezing out the tension. Breathing wide. Squeezing out tension. Every breath deeper, fuller, cleaner than the last.
Energy to your heart with its steady baboombaboombaboom. Pressing blood through your body. baboombaboombaboom through your cheeks to your hair. baboombaboombaboom. Out your arms to your fingertips. baboombaboombaboom. Down your back to the bottom of your feet. baboombaboombaboom. May your heart remain whole despite hurts and uncertainties. May it beat with the rhythms of the world. May it always remain open to the beauty and kindness around you.
Energy to your belly, as it grows big with air, and presses out all the tension. Expanding and contracting. Calm in. Tension out. Light yet full. May the knots untie and the butterflies fly away.
Energy to your legs, your knees, your feet... as the springs slowly release and they grow limp like linguini. Resting, healing and growing stronger. May they help you dance a million dances. May they take you on a million journies, then always home again.
Energy to your arms as they too pull into the ground and release their energy. Giving in to gravity. May your arms remain wide open to life. May your hands always be open to another in need. And when you reach out, may you find a hand to hold.
If I'm told tomorrow that I have no more time with Chaya, I would rage. I have a healthy appetite for life, but losing the future of Chaya's life would anger me most. It still, however, would be worth it.
And instead of a letter, I'm just going to leave a little prayer. for her. I suspect even in the likelihood she'll be plagued with mommy for many years to come, this mommy and this Chaya will be many evolutions past. So I send this to the future. It's an approximation of the prayer I say to her at bedtime each night.
Now, it's time to come down... let go of the energy of the day and give way to dreams.
As you do I'm sending you all my love and energy.
Energy to your eyes as they slowly grow heavier. Staying closed just a little longer with every single blink. Filling with moisture. Washing away the light of the day. Leaving a still space for the images of your dreams.May you see the light in every dark place. And may the shadows bring you nuance and meaning.
To your nose as it pulls in soothing, calming oxygen. And presses out the dust, the dirt, the frustration, and the tension of the day. Pulling in calm. Pushing out tension.
Energy to your mouth, so full of words. As your tongue becomes moist and heavy like a sponge. Your lips uncurl. Your teeth healthy. When you wake tomorrow may you be ever more able to say the words you need to say. May you speak with the wisdom, truth, kindness and insight.
Energy to your ears as the pressure slowly fades, and all the noises of the day wash away in the ocean, leaving only the steady baboombaboombaboom of your heart. May you hear the music in the world around you. May the truth rise out of the noise. May words of love and honestly speak louder than those of fear and deception.
Energy to your throat as soothing air passes in and tension rushes out. Calm in. Tension out. May you find your voice. May you sing your song. May those that hear it, stop and wish to sing along.
Energy to your lungs, puffing out your chest, wide with air, then squeeeeeezing out the tension. Breathing wide. Squeezing out tension. Every breath deeper, fuller, cleaner than the last.
Energy to your heart with its steady baboombaboombaboom. Pressing blood through your body. baboombaboombaboom through your cheeks to your hair. baboombaboombaboom. Out your arms to your fingertips. baboombaboombaboom. Down your back to the bottom of your feet. baboombaboombaboom. May your heart remain whole despite hurts and uncertainties. May it beat with the rhythms of the world. May it always remain open to the beauty and kindness around you.
Energy to your belly, as it grows big with air, and presses out all the tension. Expanding and contracting. Calm in. Tension out. Light yet full. May the knots untie and the butterflies fly away.
Energy to your legs, your knees, your feet... as the springs slowly release and they grow limp like linguini. Resting, healing and growing stronger. May they help you dance a million dances. May they take you on a million journies, then always home again.
Energy to your arms as they too pull into the ground and release their energy. Giving in to gravity. May your arms remain wide open to life. May your hands always be open to another in need. And when you reach out, may you find a hand to hold.
Energy to your brain, buzzing with new ideas, new discoveries, big connections, and even bigger emotions. May it come down now like a feather falling from the sky. Releasing and giving into dreams. When you wake tomorrow may you be ever more confident to navigate all those big thoughts. Make those new connections. Hold those big feelings. May you honor every part of yourself but let none overwhelm you.
And to your body. That you feel my arms around you, now and even more when I'm no longer there. And you know that you are safe, you are loved, and you are held by something so much greater than just me.
I love you so much, Chaya. I pledge to try every day to create and discover worlds worthy of your wonder. I look forward every day to discovering the world that you create. I pray nothing stands in the way of you becoming your truest self. And I thank you every day for all that you have brought to my life.
Happy birthday baby. I hope to celebrate oh so many more with you. But I am honored for these last three.
Happy birthday baby. I hope to celebrate oh so many more with you. But I am honored for these last three.
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