The river Danube ran through her new city of residence, and her mother had often said that if she could drown in any river in the world she wished for it to be the Danube, a liquid road that would take her body to the Carpathians and onward until it met the Iskar as it crossed the Balkan mountains, washing her and washing her until she lost all scent of the life she'd lived. Then let the Iskar take her to lie on beds of tiny white flowers in old, old glades, high up in the slopes. Or if she stayed with the Danube, let it draw her along miles and miles of canals to collect pine needles in the Black Forest. As many as her lap could hold...
- Helen Oyeyemi, "Drownings" from What is not yours is not yours
My options are:
Intense pain and bleeding versus an exercise in patience, which may still involve intense pain and bleeding after said patience has been extended.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Either option still opens the door to the unknown. There’s a certain level of uncertainty, anxiety and fear. But overall, a deep gnawing desire to get this over and done with.
I’m ready to move on, I’ve had a good cry about it. We knew this could happen again and it has. I’ve accepted it, even before we knew for sure. I just had a feeling. A mother’s intuition, maybe.
Right in and around my 30th birthday, no less. Some part of me wants this done before then. How enjoyable would a birthday spa retreat be spent bleeding out the remnants of your dead baby? Not that much fun. But this is just my assumption. I haven’t experienced it. At least, not yet.
I hate putting a timeline on it. But then I know I’d rather it happen on its own terms.
How long should I wait?
Which hurts more?
What do you recommend?
Is it normal to have this happen twice in a row?
What should we do going forward?
Questions and more questions …
Do whatever is right for you.
This is common.
Who knows why this happened again.
You have options. But they might lead you down a rabbit hole you don’t need to go down. (No lie, I was told this by the doctor.)
Actually, really not helpful.
We weren’t desperately wanting a baby. We waited a year to try again, after all. Keen, devoted parents would’ve jumped on the bandwagon way before we did. Instead, we went to Japan and relaxed all summer. With that said, when it happened, we were happy both times. This time, we were cautiously optimistic.
It doesn’t make it any less disappointing this time around. If anything, we were trying to be kind to one another and spaced out our sadness - we’d already used up our quota for the year.
The Grand Budapest Hotel. The film was so visually dramatic, vividly imagined, charmingly colourful. Loved the beautifully wrapped Mendl's Courtesan au Chocolat. Made me salivate and think of the simple sugary whimsy of French pastries. I'm making one for a special someone : )
she who outfits herself in a sartorially offensive mode that may result in repelling members of the opposite sex. Such garments include but are not limited to harem pants, boyfriend jeans, overalls, shoulder pads, full length jumpsuits, jewelry that resembles violent weaponry and clogs.
–verb (used without object),-pell·ing, -pell·ed.
to commit the act of repelling men:
Girl 1: What are you wearing tonight?
Girl 2: My sweet lime green drop crotch utility pants, of course.
Every January I feel the cumbersome cold. It's so much easier to keep the doors closed, the slippers on, the warm blanket wrapped around me. I am not a snow-lover. I am not someone who goes tobogganing. I suck on a pair of skis. I do not look cool on a snowboard, I look scared. Skating is okay though. Nevertheless, January, February, March has always been a time of hiding. I am a proud hobbit during that time - I like my creature comforts of warm soup, hot tea, and the remote control. The power outage was my idea of hell (I know, first world problems, blah blah blah. But we didn't have heat or hot water! I think that counts as a third world problem, but I digress...).
Broken bare tree branches lay lining the streets, remnants of the crazy ice storm we had last week. The sky is perpetually gray. The squirrels lay burrowed away. The grass, green in the summer, is sparse and brown and lays frozen beneath a thick layer of snow. The vibrant colours, smells, and sounds of summer are on pause outside. In this setting, every year, I visit mom and remember. I remember the things I did and didn't say or do, all the regrets. Some good times, but somehow the regrets always make their way in there too. The month outside is cold and barren to say the least.
At the same time, when I'm hiding away, I also feel pretty spiritual whenever January rolls around. I think it has to do with mom dying in January. I remember, that year was so hard. But it's interesting because also during that time I had never been so in touch with myself - spiritually, physically, mentally. While I could not make sense of what had happened to mom, I had these amazing moments of clarity. I recognized coincidence. I was able to make sense of my story, why I am the way I am. Cause and effect, the circular nature of life, all the beautiful things that must happen both by deliberation and sheer chance for the present to exist. Never had I been so awake. It's like when they say hindsight is 20/20 but instead of looking back, I was looking around me in complete and total awareness. I was like Dunstan Ramsay in Fifth Business. I knew who my saints were.
Despite it all, over time, my feelings on January have wavered and changed for the better. Now, to me, January is books in the bath. January is ideas and dreams. I don't have the excitement and obligations of December to distract me. I have time and room to really think. And honestly, this is really nerdy, but I really really like thinking. And the new year, after all the holiday hubbub has quieted down, is the perfect time for a thinker just to spend her days off thinking.
Reading and absorbing new ideas, my thoughts are climbing vines of ivy, each leaf and gentle tendril bright and vivacious green in colour, constantly growing and forming tangents of new concepts, concepts that are intertwining, making connections. There are blue skies here and a glowing amber sunlight. Magenta and peach coloured orchids, a gentle hum of bumblebees. Outside, while the world is waiting for the season to turn, my mind is in the throes of spring.
So although I don't celebrate new years and go partying and drinking and whatnot, I can't wait for the new year to begin. There's a party going on in my brain. I'm probably more excited than I was for Christmas.
The new year is the perfect time to reflect - on past mistakes so they can be forgiven, on regrets so a lesson can be learned. I turn inwards and think - what leaps and strides have I made? What realizations have I come to? Is happiness a fish that I can catch? I remember the year as a whole instead of the day to day. It allows me room to think generally about life and what I want from it.
When I think about the year that has passed, I am so incredibly grateful. I have an amazing family and friends and we're all healthy and financially secure. We all have good reasons to get up in the morning. I was once told that the secret to happiness is waking up every morning feeling like the day is filled with opportunities. I agree with that. Happiness is knowing you're worthy and purposeful. That good things will come if you acknowledge your circumstances, are grateful for what you have, and take advantage of the opportunities that are given to you.
When I think of the year ahead, there are many things that are certain. There will be two new additions to the family - a new baby in January and a brother-in-law by the end of the summer. There will be new adventures in a foreign land in February and maybe in the Fall. Many other things are certain - I will work, bake, and watch movies like I always have. I will laugh and cry. I will have really great days and super bad ones. I will be disappointed. I will also be pleasantly surprised. I will have losses and gains. These things are certain. But really, what makes the new year so exciting are the things in between. The little surprises, the sudden flashes of brilliance, the spontaneous moments of clarity.
So, I think as I am writing this, really what I think I'm trying to say is, that January was really tough for me and it still is. But what's made it hard is also what makes it beautiful because during a time when I was really devastatingly sad, I had hope that things would be good again. And they did get better but it took a really long time. Every January it got a little easier. And finally, I do feel like in some way, I have come to terms with things but I am still healing and learning to do it.
So to me, January, above all those things the month means to me, deep down it really just means hope.
And so, as the new year begins, as with every year since that year, I can look back, but really, I am turning my face forward and looking ahead.
So to you and yours, I wish you all the joys and sorrows, opportunities and travelling, growth and lessons learned this coming year. But mostly, I wish for you the most magical of them all: the uncertainties and unknowns, the chances and coincidences, the undiscovered, and all the joy that comes with the beautiful unpredictability of time unraveling.
2087
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