It's a whinge

I just need to say it. I feel so sad that this last month has been spent being unwell! This is the last month I had before saying goodbye to my afternoons with the Bubster. Next term, he will be going to school for the full day. We didn't get to do any of the things I had hoped we'd be able to do with our final afternoons. And now it's finished. We don't get this time back and I don't get to savour it with another child because there isn't a second or third one coming through. Today, I have an appointment to see the doctor instead of having a final lunch with the other half-day mum's. It would have been the last opportunity to see them for lunch. It's all going to change now.

Can you tell that change is something I find painful? Perhaps it's one of those left over fragments of being a bereaved parent and having things change irreversibly before my eyes, with no way out, just no way out, wondering where to go with that change. I think before that experience of catastrophic change, before I'd ever thought about bereavement, back when I felt invincible, back when I could count on my body, my buoyancy, my strengths, change wasn't as impactful although I've never done it effortlessly.

Risk taking on the other hand, I seem to manage. Moving to NYC with one suitcase and a dream, no where to live, no job but plenty of enthusiasm, worked out great. Getting married to my guy after just 3 months of knowing him and then hopping on the midnight flight out of L.A. to Sydney to join him; yeah sure, no problem. Giving pregnancy one last chance by saying yes to the placement of a trans-abdominal cervical cerlcage in hopes that this final effort would pay out, yes, a risk worth taking.  But watching my little miracle boy grow up and become his beautiful independent self, much more difficult that I'd anticipated. Of course, it's my most ardent wish, that he grow up and live a long life. But who'd have thought it would be so hard on the heart at the same time? That these two feelings would co-exist side by side, like matching sofas?

I guess I should try to think of change as being like risk-taking, it's hard to know what lies on the other side of it, but to get there you have to open that door. And this change, this change in my day because the Bubster is growing up, well, we can live with it, can't we. This stab to the heart is survivable, no matter how painful because he's here to do these things. And I feel deeply honoured.

I feel better now.