So, you can imagine my heartache when my midwife did not give me the all-clear to travel this weekend. I asked the opinion of pretty much every human being I encountered if they would give me a green light to travel in spite of decent odds that I could end up giving birth on a West Virginia highway, hoping someone would validate my belief that this is 'Murica and you can deliver a baby safely anywhere. But apparently others (like, every single person I talked to) are of sound mind and realize the trade-offs don't make it worthwhile. So, I digressed and decided to hang back.
Prior to Charlie's actual departure and the arrival of the weekend, some serious sulking went down. But here I am on this quiet, drizzly Saturday afternoon and I've felt a well of all-encompassing peace. After soliciting help and hands to care for Mom, Corey, and Asher (so as to lessen likelihood of going into labor with Charlie gone) I found myself with a few hours all to myself at home this afternoon. I watched a chic-flick and then curled up for a nap with our pup.
It reminded me of our first years of marriage, our years in Baltimore -- and getting the chance to venture back to that time via daydream and a similar experience gave me solace and a sense of calm. This week has been stressful - filled with heavy and hard words exchanged with a loved one and trying to navigate a busy new job. On top of that the week was layered with decision-making about the arrival of our son and helping talk Mom down from irrational anger.
So as I sat in the quiet and listened to the rain patter, the dull thunderclaps, and the birdsong after the stormed faded, I found some time to let all of the worry and fear fall away and to reflect on:
- the sanctity of longtime friendship -- I wrote a long email to the friends who's wedding we missed trying to articulate my disappointment and augmented FOMO, and in the process I realized that much of it was centered on how sad I was that I couldn't be there because I'd felt esteem and kinship in the gesture of being asked to have Asher be the ring-bearer and Charlie be in this ceremony. As our extended family shrinks with the loss of ailing parents, Charlie and I have come to cherish the power of friendship and chosen family.
Sometimes the distance between our closest friends and the isolation of caregiving makes me feel removed and lonely. Charlie and I try to be very intentional and invest in relationships, but on our harder days we believe the lies we hear in the darkness -- that others don't care as much, or that prioritizing friendships is less important to others and we should abandon our efforts until they are matched in exact kind. However, weddings and big life events allow us to draw together and acknowledge the strength of the bonds we build, and how they bind us together through the communal commitments we make. While I am not at the wedding, having the space to reflect on why this weekend mattered gave me the time to remind myself that the closest of friendships extend between the months of not speaking and the occasional lunch. And I was reminded that we can build these lifelong friendships in the most unexpected of places - a testament to my husband's heart for people and the integrity of many of the individuals we love the most
- how my soul and self is resilient and enduring -- It's hard to articulate, but having to abandon my "5 year plan" and move home and shift my career path really threw me for a loop, leaving me to question my identity. I often find myself feeling insecure, a skeleton of who I was, and unsure of how to make even the most mundane decisions. But on this quiet Saturday afternoon, I snuggled up with our first babe (Josie) and remembered who I was when these kinds of afternoons were frequent and easy to come by. I thought quietly about how much Charlie and I have accomplished in the past four years, and how much we've done "in spite of" and my cup was full. Four years ago, we had all of this potential within our being, but we have risen to the tasks in front of us while still maintaining our relationship and ourselves, and I can't help but feel a swell of pride and confidence.
- the arrival of our son -- In the chaos of recent weeks and other decisions, I've had to focus on job and other family decisions. But the thought of meeting our son in hours or days is overwhelming and all-consuming. I can't wait for our household to grow - to discover his new little soul and pour into his being.
