27 February 2011

110 days

110 days since Della arrived, screaming, certainly, and wildly PRESENT and ACCOUNTED FOR.
I cannot tell you how my heart has been split wide open
and my world has been rocked
and how nearly everything I thought about who I am, what I can handle, what I think or what I know has been questioned (not badly, but deeply)
and how, finally, after years of finding myself deep in the throes of self torture at 4am, now it is nursing time, a time when I stare at the amazing curve of her cheek, or the wash of eyelashes that seem to grow longer as I watch.
4am and I watch the sky for softness and imagine it might be snowing, or see pin prick stars, or the brightest sliver of moon.

I cannot tell you what this year (now reviewed thanks to taxes, good grief) has meant for me, and how as I look ahead I feel a pull between panic (outright, abject, immediate) and some sort of longer term concern, standing on a melting ice floe, wondering what will come next.

Doug took a job that will take him/us to Maine this summer. This is an opportunity I might take advantage of to leave my current job even though it means financial hardship, (it is eventual anyway, and may be their choice come June no matter what I might hope for otherwise....) a clean break and a way for us all to stay together. I have done long distance. I have done split time. I have done two houses. I have done it and have no need to do it again, not right now, not with Della who changes every minute.

The house will go on the market this spring, after repairs are complete and the new roof is on. We will load our clutter into bags and boxes, and clean, and try to exit stage left with as much dignity and soul intact as possible. I know it is the right thing, but it is not the easy thing. This would have happened either way.

The baby is having a fussy day, an impatient day, and me, I am done with gathering papers for the tax guy
I did my best, it is not *complete* but it is as complete as I can make it. It is a big, fat envelope, and chronicles our last IVF, ultrasound by ultrasound. And even holding the amazing squirming beautiful stunning outcome in my arms, I still cannot believe it.


So, lots happening here, quick changes that came up and needed decisions, and some things put off that were needing attention, and here we are, adventuring. And me? Breathing into a bag.

I wanted to write about universal messages, about jumping off, about how a string of book reading and random emails came all saying the same thing-- about trusting, about jumping, about beginning.



8 comments:

sprogblogger said...

Oh Kate - I am sorry about the house, but also happy for the opportunities I feel like this is going to open up for you. And Maine is lovely. (As is your painting, which arrived today! Thank you!)

Baby Smiling In Back Seat said...

Best of luck with Doug's new job, and whatever happens with you job-wise, and the move, and the house sale.

I wonder if we will be closer after your move or further apart? I wonder if I will still be where I am?

What IF? said...

Change is as thrilling and exciting as it is nerve-wracking. I've moved between continents and hemispheres, and can attest to starting a new life without a job in place. It can be done. It isn't easy, obviously, but it's exactly those challenges that bring tremendous opportunity and growth.

I'm hoping that the planets are aligning for a reason. I mean, think about how perfect the timing is, really: new baby, new city/town, new home, Doug's job move to Maine, and hopefully a more fulfilling, meaningful job for you down the line, when the time is right.

There must be a reason the universe is forcing you to jump. You can do it.

B. said...

Have you ever noticed that when your difficult decision is the right one, the stars seem to align and there are a million signs that you're exactly where you should be? I wish you luck and much help with all the repairing (house) and packing (belongings) and adoring (of Della). And I suspect that when you reach the other side of this decision, you'll be able to exhale and relax because it will become clear that you were meant to end up where you're headed now.

I still hope we can meet in person again and rejoice in the gifts that 2010 gave us. I'm half-heartedly job-hunting, waiting for my own stars to align.

Aisha said...

So happy for you Kate- as always I read though I am afraid I'm more silent than I once because of a squirmy one who feels the computer is his birthright. Still, just thinking of you and glad to see that life is going on well and that despite the ups and downs, you have the same beautiful attitude you always do.

@alyssa ettinger said...

sweet kate, while you know i do not believe in god or fate or anything like that, i will tell you that ever time i've been face with a situation in my life that seems scary and overwhelming, something better comes and takes its place: if not for my father dying i'd be trapped in suburban new jersey. if not for losing my last publishing job, i would not be making my puny but happy living as a ceramist. if not for ian leaving i would not know that i really can live alone and enjoy it.

it's a cheesy anecdote but here goes, misquoting the nun in the sound of music--sometimes when a door loses a window opens.

Kate said...

Hope all these changes bring wonderful new adventures into your life.

Emily Erin said...

Your post made me think of this poem: http://www.earthstewards.org/ESN-Trapeze.asp

I am sure that life is lining up in the best possible way for you. Know that I'm wishing you all the best.