Mother Sculpture
The days are passing with out crisis, with continued healing and more and more indications of "normalcy". Yesterday Anna said, "Remember when Breath'n Steven wrote that it is amazing to breathe every day with his new lungs? He is right. It is hard to believe this. Every breath is amazing."
We are at the 9 week mark now. 12 weeks has been the magic number to us and so we are getting closer. It is at 12 weeks that most transplantees can begin to drive again and are not in so much need of help and constant care giving. Soon we are going to have to think about our transition so that it is not too abrupt in my absence. I imagine we will go a little at a time. Anna talked about her needing help her entire life and how strange it will be to not need help if that will really be so. It is true that we made choices with Anna that centered around her need of support for her entire life. I am sure she will still need some but the thought of a healthy, independent Anna who can finally strike out of the binds is quite wonderful.
As we are getting closer to this time of transition it seems it is harder and harder for me to continue doing this. It must be because we are coming to an end to this part of the journey I am unraveling the tight holding on. The call to be "at home" with Doug is so strong. I miss my life of tootling around the house, coming and going on my own schedule and long periods of aloneness where I can concentrate on my creations. This morning I thought that instead of resisting these feelings or feeling bad about them I should dive into the "I have had enough of this program". I should not ruminate on it but feel it. What does it feel like to want this chapter to be over and to get on with my life?
Perhaps it is that there is something bubbling inside that wants to burst forth. The bubbling is lapping at the walls of my restricted life. It is reminding me that there are other things to do. This makes me anxious in some ways as I am fearful that more complications or family crises may arise preventing or delaying me from this uncorking. I am also weary, weary and weary. It is not that the healing, the joy of Anna's new found health and the breaks and times at home now are not rejuvinating. It is the weariness of the length of time of all of this. It has been a long haul for me to give and give and give. The weariness comes from the part of me that needs change, freedom to move and create and periods of deep inward time. It will take a while in my own space for the weariness to leave.
And then I taste the weariness. The first thing that comes to me is how it connects me to other women. It is the feminine, the mother that holds the sick child and nurses with every drop in her breast. Every mother has felt the weariness, the tiredness that comes with the infant up at night and the lack of sleep. The worry about your child from early ages into the teen years. There are times when you just want to shake it off for just a moment but the love and connection is so deep you never, ever would. This mother earthness is apart of us and necessary to keep it all going.
And here we are. It is a good week. The sun is shining and we are in our schedule of pulmonary rehab, blood draws, walks in the lovely weather, eating out (and eating too much). We need more winter but this taste of Spring has been so nice. Anna is wondering how her life is to unfold and is learning a new way to be. I am carrying my restlessness and weariness in a bundle at my side, reminding me to keep stepping forward. We are getting there.
Robin -- so well written. Thanks for sharing even though it is difficult. Darrell
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