Craft Conspiring

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Invasive Procedures

The last few nights have been a series of tossing and turning, checking the baby monitor, and dreaming about cuddly puppet eye explosions; seeing my very, very missed diving coach; and invasive procedures involving small cameras and puncture holes in my abdomen.  All of these dreams are impossible, other than the small cameras making puncture holes in my abdomen.  That's happening in two days.

At moments over the last year I have felt like the poster child for post-birth complications.  During tossing and turning I have often debated whether post-natal is the real term.  Anyway.  After a long birth, somewhat destroyed pelvic floor, excessive bleeding, a retained placenta, a botched D and C that left a perforation in my uterus, mastitis times two, thrush, and now Ashermans Syndrome with endometriosis complications, well, I am making myself real tired.  I recently completed a growth chart for our Em's second Christmas and wrote "It is a grand adventure," at the top.  I wanted to include, "with my uterus," but figured that would ruin the thing for future-Squish, who, by the way, is the coolest person in all the world.  Not kidding.

In a metacognition sense I thought writing about these feelings would help me find calm, but now I've devolved into writing about writing and my foot is anxiously moving on our breakfast bar stool.  I am so thankful that Squish is healthy, and for the health of our family and our friends.  I am so thankful for our home that I deck for the Christmas season in a continuous process of moving one thing here or there, then going outside wrapped in a blanket to check the look.  I am thankful for love: from my husband, friends, our baby, our family, our neighbors.  I am thankful for the gifts of the season, the advent of waiting and expecting, the peace of snow falling, hot meals, and all the excesses we enjoy.  I remain grateful.

So in two days I will do my best to keep that perspective despite the continuing impending floundering of my uterus and news that it no longer works.

We are enough.  We have enough.  I am enough.

Blessings to you, this holiday season.  Stay warm and hope-filled.

xo jo