A year ago tonight, I sat on the edge of my pool, silent tears coursing down my face. I was listening to José González' "Staying Alive" and sobbing at every chorus: "Dawn is coming, Open your eyes". I was dipping a brush in the pool and hand lettering the alphabet on the sidewalk because I believed (and still do) that creation is therapeutic. Eventually I started lettering the only things that felt true anymore--the names of my children and my God, and my love for my husband.
I felt so broken. I was just barely 8 months pregnant. The placenta previa and constant bleeding, the fear of losing my baby, the life altering adjustments made for gestational diabetes, the six months of sleeping on the couch because of relentless heartburn, the anxiety when I went to sleep at night, the fighting I had to do every day for the tiniest shreds of hope--it was all so heavy. And I was scared. So scared. The worst part was not knowing when it would end, or if there would be a baby for me when it did.
I wish I could go back in time and rock that girl in my arms. I wish I could hold her tight and let her cry. I would tell her, "Just one more sleep. One more night till this is behind you. Just a few more hours till you hold your sweet, sweet boy. It's going to be a little rocky, but you will be okay. You will feel whole again. You will dance and run and jump again. You will lift your boys into the sky again. You will shop at Target and sleep in a real bed and eat all the carbs again. You will be happy and you will be ABLE again."
I sat outside in the dark tonight thinking about last year. I played the same song--it had been ages. And I found myself crying as the long forgotten lyrics washed over me with new meaning behind them:
"And I will wait for you tonight
You're here forever and you're by my side
I've been waiting all my life
To feel your heart as it's keeping time
We'll do whatever just to stay alive
Dawn is coming
Open your eyes." ❤️