18 October 2009

phantom limbs

There is an odd moroseness to this flu, a despondency. A heavy weight across the shoulders, a thickness to the throat, an ache in the lungs.

Back in the days when colitis was something I experienced almost daily, I had fatigued thigh muscles much of the time, a side effect of the prolonged pain and intensity of the attacks and effort and time on the toilet. This had a weird translation- I found I feared exercise. If, when exercising, I would feel fatigue in my thigh muscles, I would panic as if a colitis attack was imminent, and would back away from the effort as quickly as I could.
I had associated the two unconsciously, and tied together two very different things through the specific sensation of fatigue of This muscle and That one.

This experience is a little like that: the heaviness, the weight, the ache, all feel like grief to me. It does not matter if my brain says Flu or says Virus, the sensations speak to my body of grief, and then I find I am responding to that, I cannot help it- a second layer, grief management, like a phantom limb.

I finally have a clear positive OPK after a fake out a few days back. It is day 11, so for me, this makes sense. My body is on its schedule, no one else's. And there is such sincere comfort in that.

There is much happiness in the internet-- Traci and her fabulous positive that makes me so joy-filled I think I may bust open like a pinata. K with her 2 or 3 miracles on board.
And I see those two lines on the fucking OPK, and hope that sometime soon, those two lines will mean something different, something wondrous, and that I will be able to push through my fear of losing and allow myself to have. And hope that having will last a whole lot longer than a few short months.

I worry I will not get pregnant again, and if I do, it will not last. I asked my clinic if I get so lucky if they will keep me longer, keep me through the point of my loss, let me learn with them if something goes wrong, not with a doctor I do not know, and a wand person who seems alien and hostile. They said yes. And there is relief in that. But there is also this sadness, this heaviness, this feeling like what if it never happens again.


I sit here on the sofa, the cat on my feet, snow swirling in the back clearing-- heavy one minute with rain that sends it down fast and splattering, then a moment of drier smaller flakes that fall straight down, or then caught up in a swirling wind that rustles the dried leaves on the little deck, or the snow rests a moment, the air clears of it, and then it begins to fall again. It changes every moment, is not accumulating, the earth is taking it in as rain.

I am so grateful for the evergreens, the hemlocks, if my woods were bare, barren, I would be sadder than I can express. I love the closeness of the trees, the way they stand against the sky, the deep green and near black of the shadows, the way the last yellow leaves lie on their branches, having fallen but not quite yet made their way to the ground.

7 comments:

Sprogblogger said...

As always, your posts speak to my heart. Wanting - wanting so much - for this ovulation to be the one, for this soon-to-be pregnancy to be the one. Thinking of you always up in your trees, surrounded by fog or snow or sunshine.

And I hope this flu goes away soon.

meinsideout said...

Glad to hear of your OPK - and I too am hoping so hard for this to be the one.

IVF 40+ said...

I can imagine the comfort a recognizable event can bring. Especially now.
Hope this flu lifts soon, sounds like it is bringing up ghosts of feelings past.
Thinking of you
EB

Megan said...

I hope this O is the one. I too fear that I will never be pregnant again...it is a scary place to be.

K said...

Hoping that you are well soon and that optimistickate comes back for a visit. Thanks for your sweet comments.

Michele said...

I felt like I was in your yard, your words are so vivid.

I am glad your clinic will keep you. I know that I wouldnt want to be surrounded by strangers either.

Crossing my fingers on your OPK and hoping you see 2 lines on a different stick soon.

irrationalexuberance said...

I've been thinking about this post for the last day -- your description of the heaviness of grief yet gratefulness for the beauty of the trees just struck me. I hope that today has brought a release from some of the flu. Most importantly, I hope that it has brought some lifting of the weight.