The heartbeat of spring
Posted on | April 7, 2006 |
My life feels like an EKG lately. Moments of intense sweetness followed with moments of such sheer exhaustion. Moments of joy followed by quickly settling depression.
If winter was the season for introspection, for a quiet reservation, brooding, reflection, spring is the season for change. For all things chaotic; growth, willy nilly. For upheaval.
Migrating birds are returning, descending on the still-bare tree tops and fence posts in throngs, twittering. Inside the house spiders are awakening. They surprise me, scooting across the room. Their strange little exoskeletons evoking a small sliver of primal terror in me, even as I put a wide-mouthed jar over dark leggy bodies, and carry them to the door.
Spring is a study of contrasts. The tenderness of pale green shoots juxtaposed by newly fallen snow. Mud, inches deep along the roads suddenly flecked with hundreds of small tracks. Animals that have been dormant all winter are appearing. Field mice, foxes, raccoons.
If I look out into the world, it starts to explain why my life has been like this for weeks: erratically tugged up and down by some vernal tide.
Up—laughing at the comedy of buying bras with a one year old. I am with my girlfriend and she is holding Bean. He is near tears: there are boobs everywhere. He points to busty mannequin after mannequin, and starts to pat her chest frantically, then reaches for mama. In the dressing room when mine actually appear in the flesh, he bursts into tears.
Down—Mastitis. (Really, I’m just trying to make up for the fact that I rarely mention boobs in my posts.) Chills. Exhaustion. I crawl into bed and spend as much of the day there as I can. When Bean doesn’t want to nap any more my body becomes his jungle gym, invariably he kicks me where it hurts the most.
Up—Days of back to back sun, the mercury hits 60. I wear shorts for the first time, hiking around the lake. Mud speckles my calves.
Down—Days of sleet and rain, and I’m caught off guard, not wearing enough. I hate being cold. Shivering in one layer too few and damp on the way back from the gym.
Up—I go to a physical therapist for my shin splints and they start feeling better. I have a week of stellar runs, building mileage every day and feeling amazing (even while pushing the running stroller). I do 4, 5, 6, 7 miles. I aim for 13 on Monday.
Down—Monday I wake up with mastitis.
Up—Bean and I have been having these wonderful days together, hiking, playing, making food. We laugh a lot, and he seems older to me—and more self sufficient.
Down—Out of the blue he has a horrendous night (the night before last), waking every hour, first clapping his hands then crying. Flailing everywhere. I get less than five hours of sleep. The following day is a wash. And then he refuses to nap at all.
Lying in bed last night trying to settle his jumpy little self, tired beyond all definitions of tired, though his body was refusing to sleep, I realize that I might as well just get used to the way things have been for the past week or so. Give in. Stop wishing things were different. And as I do, I feel my heart rate slow. It is as if I have placed a net around the periphery of the chaos. Simply expecting the wildness helps. Up, down. Up. Down. Up.
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15 Responses to “The heartbeat of spring”
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April 7th, 2006 @ 11:30 am
I am always at my worst when I have these expectations of how it should be. When I stop and slow down and try to just live in this little moment, it gets so much easier.
Easier said than done, of course!
Love the bit about bra shopping!
April 7th, 2006 @ 12:22 pm
my boobs ache in sympathy with your mastitis! SHIT. that sucks. But oh how you capture the full gamut with your words, your beautiful words!
April 7th, 2006 @ 3:17 pm
Hi, just delurking. I have been following your blog for some time now and I just want to thank you for sharing slivers of your life. Sometimes I get exhausted and feel extremely down as a new mom, like no one understands what I am going through. And every day, there are your words that always bring tears of joy and recognition because they convey what I feel deep in my own soul.
April 7th, 2006 @ 3:51 pm
I am reminded of a quote I heard years ago… Any idiot can face a crisis, it’s the day to day living that wears you out. I don’t think those words ring more true than that of a mother (although I cring at the word ‘idiot’ I never did like that word)… as moms, our days are so filled with ups and downs!
April 7th, 2006 @ 4:29 pm
yes, you speak for all of us moms! we know exactly what you’re talking about. thank you for reminding us to accept and breathe.
April 7th, 2006 @ 5:19 pm
my boobs hurt reading this, too. OW.
April 7th, 2006 @ 6:43 pm
It is this surrender that helps us manage the roller coaster.
While living with Youngest in the hospital this week I saw a clip on TV of Ellen Degeneres riding a roller coaster -
a long clip of her screaming and laughing through the rises and falls, and I burst into tears.
This is my life.
April 7th, 2006 @ 7:13 pm
What a lovely post, even with the ups and downs. It’s amazing how much a child changes once they’ve passed their first birthday. They are a joy and so much fun as they get older, but suddenly the days aren’t what they were and you have to adapt very quickly. I hope you’re feeling better soon and that Bean has a restful weekend.
PS. There’s nothing I hate more than being cold myself. I had to leave the warm shower this morning to get my towel and the shock on my body, was heinous. I thought briefly, how poorly I’d do if I had to experience real cold for a sustained amount of time.
April 7th, 2006 @ 8:36 pm
i promise you
with the vindication
and assurance
of a mother of two
that it will even out…
it will balance…
and there you will find yourself again
complete and whole
whereas right now
it probably feels like you only
can find yourself in snippets…
at least, that was how i felt.
and everytime i felt like i was
getting back to being me,
somebody would be teething
or vomiting
or wanting something to eat…
i hope your soreness goes away
sooner than that though
April 7th, 2006 @ 9:16 pm
Expectations. They’ll get you every time. Or at least, they get me.
April 8th, 2006 @ 1:41 am
You are posting about the heartbeat of spring just as I have written a post on the descent of autumn to my part of the world.
(I hope the mastitis clears up soon)
April 8th, 2006 @ 8:46 pm
you always bring me back to earth and help me appreciate the important things. my own lil’ bit is going through a seperation anxiety right now and it is killing me. but reading your posts helps me realize that i am not the only one going through this. thank you. feel better.
ps - i left a post a few days back saying how i hope you appreciate your life or something equally green - it was one of those horrible days that everything seemed to be going wrong and i apologize for my tone.
April 9th, 2006 @ 12:58 am
Every time I’ve tried sitting down to respond to this post today, I’ve been recruited to nurse, so I’ve thought about this all day today: these ups and downs. They really isolate me (I get them, too); at times I feel so alone, but you and your commenters have reminded me that, to some degree, it’s a mom thing. And yes, it helps to surrender.
I’m so sorry about the mastitis, the shin splints…without being able to help care for Bean, all I can say is ‘hang in there.’ You’ll bounce back quickly
April 12th, 2006 @ 2:49 am
SIster, I am with you on this one. My moods swings are damn unpredictable and although it makes me very angry (to be so out of control), I know a lesson is being taught - perhaps it’s a simple as letting go more.
Thanks for the post. Relevance provides sanity.
Hope the down’s are long gone.
xo
April 12th, 2006 @ 1:03 pm
I had mastitis recently. Ugh. Enjoying reading you.