Holy big belly batman.
A nice long luscious weekend of sisterlove and she took this photo before we parted this morning.
Our second opinion on The Scary Thing is coming thursday morning. OH how I have enjoyed this break in the panic. The baby has been moving like crazy in spite of the tight quarters. So that has been wonderfully reassuring. I am hoping/expecting Dr. reassurance. I am cautiously optimistic.
Remember my hike? One evening, my sister and I walked down the road to the trail head, then up a few yards, then a few more.
Then the next day, we did it again with my nephew, this time going a few more yards, then a few more -- up to where I could imagine the birch across the path, the curve to where the trail runs along the first stone wall, up to where the woods open and the hill falls away.
Oh to smell the leaves and pines and dirt and the familiar feel of the trail. I imagine myself, baby strapped on, walking slowing up that hill. First to the rock. Then, maybe the next day, to the bent tree. Or where the cabin used to be. Or to the fallen birch.
I imagine it viscerally. There will be leaves down, and naked trees, and the smell of wood smoke, and there will be early dark...
I miss my own rhythms, my own self soothing, my ability to get out in it and MOVE.
I know that with this wonderful gift I am growing, I lose things. I lose autonomy. I lose the ability to maintain my level of self centeredness. I will lose nights of sleep (already beginning and I know I don't know anything yet). But I also know there are such unexpected gains. And some expected too-
simple things: to have to hike slowly, to pause to breathe, to have time while breathing to really look around and not just hike past and through, eye on the prize of heart rate, not tree bark.
In this slower pace, I am seeing things again. And I am grateful.