The Tuesday after

I've gone dark, like a secret agent.

The whirlwind is slowing, though, and I am breathing again. There was the angst. Is the angst.

There were two things, two different weeks, that showed themselves on ultrasound, both of which have moderately resolved themselves. The universe testing me, one last time?

So there is the worry, the constant, persistent worry, but now the worry is slightly offset by the speed of the ticking clock within me-- I am now 14 days from my due date, so it is becoming more in the realm of possible that things will work out. Fiona was born 9 days early, Aoife 5. These are numbers I can work with. Even if this baby doesn't arrive early, at least I can hold out on the possibility that it might happen soon. That balances out some, a little, of the fear.

In the past two weeks, I selected from my computer library, uploaded on to Snap.fish, ordered, sorted, and put into albums exactly 2,078 photographs. I also put together a gigantic mailing for my loss organization that was posted just this afternoon, going to every midwife, OB, and family center in and around our valley. There are four birthday parties in the next week and the gifts are now purchased and wrapped, ready to go. Some semblance of order is falling upon what last week seemed like the most incredible disarray. I was whirling so fast I was labeling photo albums at stop lights while I waited. Too much, too much.

So now, tonight, for the first time in maybe a month, I am actually sitting. I sit, and the warm wind is blowing in the window beside me, and my black cat is vying for a spot on my lap next to the computer. The cherry tree is in full bloom out the window, her blossoms falling ever so gently as the breeze passes.

Today is the Tuesday after Mother's day, which was her day. For some reason, this year, probably because of my pregnancy, the days of the week have seemed very significant for me. On Monday morning I had the intention of running errands and having a swim in the pool when suddenly I was paralyzed by the thought that those were the same things I had puttered away my day doing that Monday back eight years ago. It seemed like too much of a coincidence, and I realized I couldn't do it, I just couldn't, and I ended up having a small scale emotional crisis and spending the morning hooked up to the monitor in my midwife's office, listening to the little one's heart pound while Fiona entertained herself with the dollhouse, and then getting sent over to ultrasound for a better view when the little bugger failed his/her nonstress test. That went like clockwork, with baby scoring 8/8 in a few minutes flat, with visible beautiful blood flow through the cord.

So tomorrow I will try to run a few errands, we'll see, or maybe Thursday. It will happen. And Friday, although to me it seems less like her birthday than today does, I will take the day to settle back with my family and love them up, remembering where it all began.

And also? I won a big award for my program. It was the President's Choice for Outstanding Community Outreach selected from among all volunteer programs in New England. This is the equivalent of me winning the mom-of-the-year award for Charlotte, in my eyes... and I'm pretty darn proud.