The Calm After the Storm

I believe the storm may finally be over. It’s a dangerous thing to put in writing because, as soon as I think I know something, life will prove me wrong.

I am not pregnant, my job situation is still a mess, adoption is two years off by my best estimate, and I still have to baby my dog, Hollywood, in order to keep him healthy from meal to meal. But, for the moment, I feel the eye of the storm has passed and now I just have to keep moving through the aftermath, picking up all the windblown pieces of my life.

We got my genetic test back yesterday and my chromosomes are normal (enter little happy dance here). I am learning to love working part time. The adoption keeps steadily moving forward as I dream of learning how to braid cute, curly hair and nourish beautiful dark skin after bath time. I have continued to cherry pick moments in life that give me happiness…and happiness is surrounding me.

I feel more appreciative than I was able to feel most of this year. All year I felt an outpouring of compassion for others and a true spiritual awakening, but I am finally accepting where my life has led me in this moment. I feel joy bursting open in my soul from simply participating in my life.

As our dear Adam’s birthday approaches, I know my heart will never be whole again, but it may have grown deeper and wider. I am forever changed and this “new normal,” as I’ve coined it, is getting more comfortable, although laced with a sadness that I will always know. Through the sadness, though, space for the next chapter has finally been created.

I will revel in the fact that my deep breaths aren’t restricted with the anxiety and struggle that has been plaguing them for the last two years. I will continue to embrace the joy in the small, everyday moments. I will cherish the right-now, whether this truly is the calm after the storm or just a little break before the next blow. Either way, I have right now, I can breathe, and I feel peace.

Do I Look Healthy?

My husband and I decided to go ahead and see a genetic counselor. Going to a doctor, hoping they find something wrong with you, and then praying it can be fixed, feels a little strange. Our appointment is today, and – while getting dressed – I realized I was trying to pick an outfit for the occasion, like we all sometimes or always do (depending on the occasion, person, and his or her pretension to style – or maybe just vanity). But this time, I realized I was trying to pick something that made me look healthy. 

What are the qualities of an outfit that makes me look healthy, you ask? I am not really sure, but I guess not necessarily one to hide behind, but an outfit that makes me look vibrant, strong, and like I wouldn’t have a genetic dysfunction causing my pregnancies to fail. Yeah, one like that.

I think I found myself imagining the doctor scanning us, garnished in our healthy outfits, and pre-approving us. I imagine the doctor looking at the test results and, if there is an abnormality, simply thinking it cannot be so because we just looked so darned glowy in that consultation! Either way, I am realizing I am obviously a little nervous about the appointment.

I think I am at a point where I can talk about losing Adam Gabriel without getting weepy, but I can never tell for sure. Depending on the question, the phrasing, and what traumatic triggers might be set off, my reaction varies. Usually I am okay, but always my heart is racing inside. Always I feel incredibly vulnerable. And now I am voluntarily asking another stranger to rummage through my body and soul, bringing to the surface the subject that has torn my heart into shreds.

Maybe focusing on the outfit was just the easiest thing to do. Looking healthy seems a lot less stressful than worrying about what uncontrollable truths lie underneath my skin. But, as I’ve written about previously, this life is all about peeling off our protective thorns to get busy living the life we are really meant to live.

Here I go.