Life

This is a mall in Dubai obviously, teeming with life and fish.  Where else?


The assignment I chose from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop (see icon on sidebar) is this:


3.) What is the joy in your present moment?


It's a simple question, but sometimes hard to identify when you're holding down the fort with three young kids and zero energy.  I mostly just get through life these days, try to survive it with some sanity in tact and the children all in one piece.  To tell you the truth, I wasn't hugely different before having children (in terms of just surviving each day instead of living it), but I had more time to myself and more promise of things to come to keep the spring in my step.  I principally hoped to get married and have lots of kids (apart from being rich and famous).  But when you dream of the kids, you don't have to change their diapers.


Today I finished working on the memorial book of the Message mom who died.  (Message is the anglo-mother community in Paris and we reunite through a website and various activities).  She died in November from placenta acretia, leaving behind a newborn, an 18 month old and a five year old.  She made it to the hospital and gave birth by planned C-section, but passed away the next day.


A group of us each decided to each take a year (2004-2009) of her time in the Message community and copy all of her posts that would tell something about herself, her children, how she viewed life, etc and then put them into one book.  I took 2009, the last year she was alive.  As I copied the last month of her life, post by post, and read about the mundane things (what furniture to buy to accommodate the baby clothes), the stressful things (what if I start bleeding at home - do I call a taxi?  The firemen might only take me to the closest hospital, and not the high-risk one), the agonizing things (how will my baby girl handle my being in the hospital 2 whole weeks?  We've never been separated before!), and the preparatory things (what last minute things will I need to pack for the hospital?  Three onesies seems a bit skimpy.  DH is going to have to acquaint himself with the washing machine), my heart twisted painfully inside of me.  Her last post was congratulating another mom who had just given birth with the cheerful words, "now it's my turn.  I'm literally just checking in before leaving for the hospital."


I remember a friend describing her father in a way that seemed to me, at the very least, neglectful.  She was very close to her mother, but then her mother got cancer.  My friend was six, the older of two girls, and when she asked her father if they were going to go to the hospital to visit her mother he retorted, "she's dead!" before snapping his newspaper back open and continuing to read.  I'm sure he didn't know how to handle the emotions himself, but my friend was left to go into her room, close the door and cry because her mother had died and she had no one to comfort her.


This is singularly my greatest fear - to not be there to raise my children.  Or is it to lose a child?  Or my husband?  In any case, I am so affected by stories of loss, that in order to keep breathing, I have to hold on to the fact that most people do live normal, long, healthy lives.  The tragedies are a minority.


I remember Mr. Welcome sitting across from me in the french restaurant in SoHo on the one-year anniversary of us dating, the ring on the table that came out of nowhere, and him saying, "one year is not good enough.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  Will you marry me?"  I was floored.  Earlier he had given me a diamond bracelet, dashing all my hopes for a proposal.  I was going to have to wait a whole other year for him to save up for a ring.  When his friend heard about the proposal, she said, "You've set the bar high!  Now all the girls are going to say, "I see my ring; but where's my bracelet?"


I remember coming out of the bathroom and Mr. Welcome about to say that my toast is burnt, but upon seeing me with a stick in hand, only manages "Your ......"  


"Pregnant!" I finish for him.  


Some seven months later (not a singular story, but one of the more delightful), we've just arrived in the building after a flight from Paris and a long taxi ride from JFK to Battery Park City and he says he's going to check the mail.  I respond, barely moving my lips, that I'm going to head up.  Our apartment is across from the elevator and the doors open ding!  Mr. Welcome exits the elevator, only to see the entire contents of my travel purse thrown down the hallway, the key in the door, and vomit all over the door, the rug and the walls of the corridor.  "I couldn't get the door open," I wail.


I remember Big Boy being handed to me after having spent a long time with the doctors in reanimation.  He wasn't breathing when he came out, but I was trembling from the fever that had followed me throughout my labor and pushing and wasn't aware of what was going on.  When finished with the reanimation, they brought him to me on his way to NICU for some bonding with his mother. With a true maternal instinct, I glossed over the shock of seeing a purple fleshy baby that looked nothing like Young Lady's delicate bird-like features (even straight out of the womb).  I caressed his head and told him that I was his mommy, that he was my prince and that I would love him forever, and other such soothing words and touches.  The nurses left him much longer than anticipated and this contact with his mother stabilized his vitals so much he was able to skip the NICU and stay in the regular nursery just down the hall from me.


I think of Peanut smashing his jaw against mine, trying to relieve the agony of teething, but never biting me because he knows it will hurt me.  I think of him putting his two little hands on my collarbones and looking at me, then putting his arms around my neck and hugging me, only to repeat the process.


I think of the little plants that are making their way through the dirt for the first time under my care (at least I hope they're plants and not weeds), and the fact that they are going to do this season in and out for as long as I live in my new home.  I am greeted by an explosion of green with pinks and yellows and whites interspersed throughout, and even my back living room window gives a full view of large leaves sashaying in the breeze.


I picture the three children in the bubble bath last night, their faces turned towards mine laughing, and each with a new haircut that makes them look so grown up.  


I picture my Mr. Welcome doing a close-up of his lips on the skype camera tonight to give each of us kisses, much to the delight and giggles of us all, from baby to wife.


I think of all these things and my joy in the present moment is simply .... life.