Just when you think...

I really thought I had settled this.  The past six months or so I have felt amazingly content with my life as it stands.  The longings and wonderings had faded into a distant memory.

Then today, it hit me again.

Maybe I do want another baby.

Sigh... here we go again.  Welcome back emotional roller coaster.

Looking for a do-over

When I think of my role as a mother, and how well I have fulfilled that role, I often think of the years 2003-2006 as the Missing Years.  I do so privately because anyone else in my real life would immediately assure me that I am being too dramatic or too hard on myself or a little of both.  And they would be right.  To call them the Missing Years is a bit dramatic because, of course, they happened, and I was here, and remarkably there was probably more good than bad.

Still, they were hard, complicated years and I was not always the mother my boys probably needed me to be.

A quick recap:

2003- Became pregnant with twins after 2+ years of going through fertility therapy; unexpectedly had to change schools for reasons beyond our control and not to our liking; started a new school while quite largely pregnant with twins; lost twins two months into the new school year.  Grieving commenced.

2004- Still grieving lost babies; became pregnant again; learned my father was diagnosed with cancer.

2005- Still grieving lost babies; new baby born; Dad dies; now caught up in the throes of grieving father while mothering a rather high-need infant.

2006- Still grieving all of the above, still busy mothering beautiful baby- but the fog begins to lift...

And the thing is, when that fog lifted, my boy that had been all of 8 years old when this all started was now 11.  And I think I missed some crucial windows of opportunity during that foggy, overwhelming time.  He didn't lack for hugs, or smiles, or kisses good night. He didn't lack for love or even attention.  What he missed out on was having a fully attuned, intentional mother.  I gave him what I had and what came naturally, which was my love, but I didn't have the energy to think of what he might need beyond that.  I wasn't looking for where he needed guidance, or support, or critical lessons about life and what lies ahead.

He made it easy, that one.  He's a pretty simple guy with pretty simple needs.  That's how he likes it, smooth and easy... everything on the level.  Don't get too deep, don't push too hard, and we'll get along just fine.  

But at 8 years old he was a little more open... a little more willing to hear, to talk, to listen.  And I missed that.

Some things never change

There is a sandwich shop near our home which we frequent all too frequently.  The manager knows us by now.  If I come in alone she always asks about the kids and she's always excited when I have Pumpkin with me.  Clearly she enjoys children.

Today I popped in there just to get my precious diet soda (yeah, whatever, sue me), and she happily revealed to me that she is expecting twins.

Now, I've been at this long enough now that it wasn't any trouble for me to smile and offer her my most sincere best wishes.  She told me she is really happy and excited and I told her that she should be, that it is wonderful news.

What surprised me was how much I wanted to tell her that I too was once expecting twins.  That I had twins.  That I know that excitement of planning for two babies to arrive at once.  I wanted to share the good parts, but there was no way to do that without also sharing the bad.  And sharing my own sad experience would not have been fair at all to her in the midst of her own happiness.  She doesn't need my cautionary tale.  I'm sure she has plenty of worries all of her own making.  She's only 17 weeks along, she doesn't need me planting the thought that 7 weeks from now it could all be over, especially when in all likelihood it won't be.  She, like the majority of other mothers who carry twins, will probably bring her babies home.  And that is exactly what I want for her.

I got in the car and found myself needing to take a few deep breaths.  In through the nose, out through the mouth.  I felt the tears starting to rise and I didn't want them to.  I just didn't.  So I stopped them, but somehow I haven't been able to lift the heavy weight that has settled on my heart since our conversation.  Sometimes you can only push aside so much.

So much has gotten better in the past five years, but some things... I think they will just always be hard.

The song remembers when

Today as I was driving along listening to Pumpkin chatter in the backseat a song came on the radio, one of the many songs that always bring Joseph and Molly to the forefront of my thoughts. As I let the lyrics penetrate my consciousness (something I sometimes prevent myself from doing) I felt tears spring to my eyes.  No real tears, no sobs, just that abrupt swell of emotion that overtakes us when we are suddenly confronted with a memory so powerful it resonates in every fiber of our being.

Five years later I now possess an emotional Stop Button that functions quite nicely most of the time.  It is the button I can press when I simply do not want to go there, right now, in this moment.  It is the button that allows me to attend a birthday party for boy/girl twins and focus solely on my own adorable, living almost four year old child.  And now, five years later mind you, it is the button I can go to when I feel the melancholy start to descend and yet there are dishes to wash, homework to correct and bedtime stories to be read.  

I am grateful to have at long last acquired this handy Stop Button.  But, at the same time, I am also glad that there are moments and memories that cannot always be so carefully controlled.  I am glad to know a song can still bring them back to me- even for a moment.

Progress

Progress- We are home.  We are all reveling in the complete absence of snow and are not uttering a single complaint about the rain.  I am choosing to ignore the overflowing suitcases and boxes yet to be unpacked.

Progress- I have declared an immediate end to the EatFest 2008 I have engaged in over the past two weeks and have initiated the beginnings of Return to Healthy Living 2009.  I have exercised yesterday and today and have cut my daily calorie count by about 12,000 (that might be an exaggeration).

Progress- Pumpkin was asleep by 9:00 tonight as opposed to the 10:30pm bedtime she adopted over Christmas break.

Progress- Big J has conceded that he probably should formulate a plan for studying for his finals which will take place in three short weeks.

Progress- Today I took Pumpkin to a birthday party for four year old boy/girl twins and I suffered only the smallest ache when they sat side by side and blew out the candles on their cupcakes.

Progress- I am learning to celebrate progress rather than seek perfection.

And so it begins... or doesn't

Happy New Year one and all!

And yet we are still here on The Other Side of the Mountains, feeling as though we are living our own version of Groundhog Day. More snow... Pass closed... can't get home.

It's a good thing I don't hold much stock in New Years, or resolutions, or artificial beginnings, because I might consider this a rather inauspicious start to 2009. But instead, in my Pollyanna way, I will see the blessings.

At least we weren't already on the road when the Pass was closed thus needing to either turn around or wait it out in Small Town, Northwest.

At least we have a warm, dry, cozy home in which to bide our time until the storm passes.

At least, and in fact there is nothing least about it, we have each other.

So, all of those choruses we sang about dreaming of a white christmas... enough already.