Eggs, shots and rock n roll

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Cleaning up

My home office was a real mess. Tons of bills, invoices, folders, birthday cards, magazines, all mixed up on the floor. I usually am a very organised person and my office is the first place I keep really clean. I had stopped cleaning up only because I was lazy and things started pilling up. Anyway, it was in dire need of cleaning and organising.

On my desk, I always have a big table calendar, the kind you lay on the desk and write on or put you coffee mug on and leave a nice coffee ring... Every month I tear the big page off to discover an brand new page, a brand new month. I always keep the last month's sheet close at hand in case I need to look back at some notes I took or at some dates. So I fold the past month and place it in a folder in my drawer. When I was cleaning up, I found lots of these sheets. In fact, almost a whole year in folded pages in my folder and on the floor. I looked at the months that had just past and saw the little numbers scribbled on the corners of some days. Those were the weeks of my pregnancy. Then I looked at some older months and saw other little numbers. Cycle days, days post-ovulation, sad anniversaries (miscarriage, months and years TTC, etc.), so many memories of my infertility, scribbled on the corners of these squares. It made me feel weird to look back at them. I almost felt as if I was looking at another person's belongings. But no... Not so long ago, that was my reality. Everything was calculated and noted: temperature, days, hopes. Not so long ago, I was dreaming about being pregnant, I was counting the days, I could only see 2 weeks ahead in the future. I never saw further than that, never dared to look anyway. Every morning, I would enter my temperature and symptoms and such on FF, then on my paper chart in my binder where they all were, since the beginning. That binder contained all my TTC history: all the charts, my prescriptions, documentation, records. I counted how many more days I had to wait, I looked at my chart again and again, hoping I would find something that would tell me something good. I was tired, sick of this whole ordeal, discouraged, but it was all part of my routine. I almost did not see it anymore, so much it was a part of me. Counting and taking notes and following that routine had become natural for me. A part of who I was, of my life. I was hoping it would change, but I couldn't really see my life otherwise.

All these calendar pages, all these little numbers and days spent hoping are over. I put it all in the recycling bin. I will never forget those months, those days of worry, frustration and hope, but they are no longer a part of my day to day reality. Maybe they will come back one day. But for now, my reality is very different. It's moving in my belly, making me thank heavens every day for the chance we have to be living this. My reality now is even more beautiful than I would have ever imagined back in those days of counting and calculating.

Feels good to clean up once in a while...

1 comment(s):

What an incredibly moving post that hit very close to home.

I have measured out my life for the last three years in two week increments.

By Blogger April, at 6:16 PM  

Post a comment

<< Home