This morning was a blur in my house. I have averaged possibly 4 hours of sleep in the past 72 hours. And not because of baby. I have a fog horn that refuses to see a doctor that shares the bed with me. We got up late to meet a friend for a walk. I had to do some serious multitasking to feed baby, pump milk for baby, eat my own breakfast and tend to a dog whose eyeballs were practically floating.
Because it was a breezy, cool day as compared to the summer-like weather we have been having most of the week, the walk was put on hold. Instead, we took an hour to decompress from the rush-rush of the morning with some yoga. Then we bundled up (well, baby bundled up) and set off for a run. If I’m going to put together a local stroller run on May 31st for National Stroller Run Day, then I need to be able to run A LOT better with that dang stroller than I can currently.
We, of course, ended up taking a little break down at the public landing of the little town I live in. The town I’ve taken up a cozy little spot in, is a lot like the cozy little town (or village) I grew up in. The only differences are my hometown is also hometown to Andre the seal and comfy cedar sided cottage style homes. The town I call home now, just twenty minutes south, is home to huge homes from the late 1700s and early 1800s that housed captains and their families, and it also has Thomaston Grocery – the down-home style grocer, where everyone seriously knows my name.
This town called home has had this ability to bring me back to center when things have been blown off course (no pun intended there, honestly). I’ve come to a lot of decisions about different aspects of my life sitting on the dock at that public landing.
I’m sure most of you reading this have heard about the app for smartphones called Time Hop. Each day, it shows you what you have posted to your various social media accounts on that day in particular, for the time span that you’ve had those specific accounts.
Mine for today was a post to Facebook a year ago. The day I sat on that dock with my dog, and came to peace fully, on being told that even with the medical intervention of In Vitro Fertilization, the chances of me being able to have a child were only 30%. I had always thought that I was okay with whatever happened. I truly believed that I was okay with or without being able to be a mom. But that day, I realized I wasn’t fully okay with whichever way the wind blew.
It was like the finally lock clicked open inside. Or at least this is how I tell the story, because on June 22nd of last year, I found out I was five weeks pregnant. I became the one that confused every doctor that had been a part of the almost three year journey. I defied the science of the tests that I had to take. I can’t explain what happened that day any better than, I finally found contentment with whatever may come my way. Of course, doctors disagree with me, because, well… Science.
Today, I stood near the dock, (not on the dock, because that is just absolutely sketchtastic with a baby in a stroller) and I reflected on the, no better way to explain it, miracle that took place. The miracle with bluish brown eyes, watching me curiously as I snapped a photo of him, then the harbor before us, then our feet. The miracle who is sitting in my lap, right now, watching me type out this blog, while munching on his hands and making happy little sounds.