The Raining Down Leaves Blues

October 29, 2004 | Category:

Late in the evening, window open, train rattling off in the distance, wind blowing - hard. It's raining. Water. Mist. And leaves. Showers of golden leaves in the streetlights.

The cold feels good.

I'm caught, as Big Head Todd sings, in the "Bittersweet. More sweet than bitter ...more bitter than sweet".

The sweet, it's there for all to see. Life with Bear is so wonderful.

It's the bitter, that's hidden in the shadows. It's why I've been battling the blues for months now.

Since that morning early in summer, when we realized... no baby. No sudden magic fertilitity. No "look, Baby.the.sequel - no money down, no credit check." No easy path to repeat the glory, another one to join us and Bear.

Blues. Every few nights it's like this, 2AM and not asleep. In my days, life goes on. Although I notice that I am avoiding exercising (gee, did I finally spell it right?) or anything else that would actually help me work through this.

I'm feeding the blues. It's like the injury that you make worse by hiding it away.

The injury needs to be cleaned and bandaged. Out in the light.

The blues need to be faced.

Blues. Not Depression. I know this because I asked an expert about it. Actually several. Thought there might be a magic pill I could take that would help me.

Nope.

We've been grappling with choices. And even begining to deal with them has been so hard. So very hard.

There's this great line, in Farscape. When Areyn wants to get together with John Crichton again. And he can't do it. Crichton says to Aeryn: “I would put my life in your hands, but not my heart.”

That's how I feel.

After Bear was born, CD and I faced a crisis. It had been 7 months of bedrest, of emergency after emergency to finally get Bear delivered - alive and healthy.

And then he was. And suddenly, we weren't living under seige anymore. How wonderful. And... how hard. It was a bumpy road, filled with therapy and prayer, to recover.

The thought of of doing it again. Of losing more, and hoping to make it to the finish line... Of walking through that gauntlet again, day after day after day. Of ripping of ourselves inside out to try and have another baby scares me sick.

Because to do this, it means putting not just my life and my body but my heart back into the hands of this process.

He says, please.

I say I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to hope anymore. I want a line in the sand. I want to stick my tongue out at the bogeyman and waggle my fingers in my ears.

CD, he can't make this better for me. And he can't stop wanting.

But wanting won't make it so.

So I'm up late, and I've got no answers.

Just the window open and wind blowing and the raining down leaves blues.

Share: Delicious! | Stumble It! |   Slashdot It!