Happy to be Present
Today was my little boy’s first day of transitional kindergarten. Don’t worry, I’m not about to go all sappy. I’m not that person. I’m excited each year for school to begin. I’ve celebrated each of my children’s milestones with great excitement – switching from nursing to sippy cups, first steps, first sentences (because both of my kids kind of skipped over the first word thing and just started spitting out Shakespearean Sonnets), moving to a big kid bed, giving up pacifiers, learning to use the potty, and first days of school. That being said, I did burst into tears the first morning my daughter got on a school bus, but in retrospect, I realized it was sheer relief. I’d gotten her that far, which wasn’t easy because that girl spent the first year of her life screaming. It was a miracle I hadn’t set her on the curb with a “Free to a good home” sign. Seriously, though, each of these big moments I see as accomplishments as a mother. I’ve gotten them safely from infancy to the present and they are amazing, kind, lovely children.
Yay Me!
After dropping off my son, I headed out for a run. As some of you know, I don’t like to run, but when I run the most amazing things come into my life. When both the kids are in school, I try to run once a week. Today was my first school year run. It was hot. About two miles in I thought there was something wrong with my iPod. Why was the music suddenly so quiet? What is that strange noise, like rushing wind? Know what it was? My blood pumping like crazy in the heat and filling the space behind my ears with that mad rushing river sound it makes. Time for a few deep breaths to slow things down.
But the sound of my blood pumping that fast got me thinking. I’ve got a friend with a bleeding disorder that is doing some amazing things this year to bring awareness to clotting disorders and raise money for more research and treatment. I’m all about people finding what they are passionate about and then committing. She’s done just that. I want to make her something special to show her how excited I am for her that she’s achieving these great goals she set for herself. What would the perfect gift be? Hmmm . . . I know. A tutu. I love a good tutu.
My sister and I are very skilled tutu makers. We make them for our Your Girls and Mine Susan G. Komen 3-Day Breast Cancer Walk for the Cure team. Each teammate gets to pick colors to represent their causes. Mine is pink (breast cancer), teal (ovarian cancer), and purple (all cancers) right now, but today, I realized that I need to add one more color – red. See, I have a clotting disorder too, one that thus far only presents during pregnancy and those days are over (note the two kids in school) so I hardly think about it anymore. But running today, I remembered some of what it felt like.
I remember driving one day to buy bigger pants a few weeks after getting out of the hospital after my initial diagnosis. I was seven months pregnant. I needed those big girl pants in a bad way and Drew was at work, so I drove myself. As I’m driving on the highway, I suddenly thought to myself, My God, what if I throw a clot now – right now as I’m driving? The oncoming traffic on that highway never looked so intimidating. I slowed down to forty miles per hour and hugged that inside right lane like crazy. After that, it was a regular theme for me. I’d wonder what I’d do if I had a pulmonary embolism in front of the thirteen-year-olds I taught? Or what if I was at the grocery store? Or home alone one night while Drew was traveling? And the thought of dying was scary, but the thought of causing the baby growing inside of me to die was horrifying. No mother should feel that way. Like her own body, the body she was given to grow and protect babies, is itself a threat to that life. I felt like a time bomb and could only hope the shots of blood thinners I was taking twice a day would be enough to diffuse the bomb.
When each of the kids was born, I remember feeling amazing relief. I’d gotten them safely into the world. I hadn’t failed. So I guess that relief at reaching a milestone is programmed into me now. For me, these are not sad moments. They are the happiest moments. I’ve done my job as mommy and delivered them safely to each new adventure. And we’ll keep looking forward to the next one and the next and the next. I don’t grieve for the past because I’m so thankful we have a present.
So, I’m adding red tulle to my tutu. Red to remind me of the present. Red to remind me of all my small miracles.
Oops. Guess I did get all sappy on you. Let’s blame it on the dehydration. Man, is it hot out there!
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