Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Everything is Gonna be Alright

Danny's Song by Loggins & Messina

This summer I’ve been really attracted to people “owning" where they're at. I find myself admiring it in others like smooth skin or good humor. When I see someone owning it, I find it powerful – even when it’s vulnerable. There is no more strength in what we can share with each other than to be present where we are and living what we are living; all the while holding on to our integrity…or not holding on to it; there’s a lot to be said for bleeding too (I wish I could do it more openly).

I wanted to write a really empowering piece about "owning it" and this first paragraph has sat in my blog post for a little bit now. This morning I approached it from a different angle.

I have finally come to terms with the end of the Summer...or at least that's what I'm telling myself today as the first official day of Fall squeezes it's big toe in to my life. Although this morning I still wasn't quite ready to say goodbye so I strapped myself in to a bright coral dress and hopped on my bike to ride to work. I knew I had a sweater at work if it got cold; I knew I could always take the light rail home if another afternoon rain gloomed out the day; I knew I could call D if my water broke.

Downtown I walked to meet some friends for lunch. I felt a bit obnoxious in my leggings with the bump not so subtly hidden under the colorful coral of my summer dress. The grey skies and business lunchers seemed so monotone. I felt the looks that have become so common in stranger's faces - it accompanies the promise of what lies behind the curtain of clothing (it's a strange amount of attention I never realized happened to pregnant women). But today it was the color that "woke me up" - it was the stark difference as I clearly was "individual".

Here's the deal, it's not the Fall I'm avoiding. Give me some colorful crunchy leaves, a light jacket and a scarf and I will find joy in the day (I would do Spring - Summer - Fall - Spring - Summer - Fall all year long if I could). This year, the Summer - Fall transition has a more profound effect on me because I really do feel like it's my last "summer of love" so to speak. It's like I suddenly lost my virginity in some 80s movie and have to say goodbye to my first love. And though I am ready to move on, I know Summer will never be the same...because I will be a mom.

Now I know this sounds harsh and fatalistic but it comes from a place of higher thinking. It has something to do with a comment my sis made to my friend, CP, when she was out visiting a few weeks ago. We were sitting at a brewery in Breckenridge and NR asked CP, "so did Amy tell you she was pregnant?" It was a classic NR comedy moment (and god I wish I could have done that to someone - what a trip) but the comment snagged at something deep in my psyche. In a way, I don't think I told myself I was pregnant. I certainly anticipated that CP would expect me to party like we were in college still. I was lost trying to figure out how to be fun while sober and slow moving. CP of course, had no problems and at one point in the visit even said, "I knew you were 8 months pregnant when I booked the trip." I think it was because I kept apologizing for the absence of my old ways. Admittedly I was lost.

When I think back on it, I've been lost these past few months coming to terms with the change headed my way. As is true with most things in my life: I never really considered what it all meant until I started taking the steps. And these are steps I chose to take; steps that I have been waiting to take for some time now; steps that I was FINALLY ready to take physically and emotionally. Steps that I've been trying to embrace, though it's scary. My innocence is fading quickly and I am left with the reality that this morphing belly is home to the next adventure in my life. One that, if punctual, will be here a month from today.
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I finished digesting the underlying thought of today through this entry. Afterwards I put on some jeans, a black shirt, a light scarf and jacket (no where near able to button). I was out the door to meet D and a doula. Could it be the night air or maybe just that I was ready to dress for the weather?! Rain drops hugged the car and slipped away. It felt good to wear the extra layers though I didn't need them for warmth (it just felt right). At the meeting we discussed the expectations and anxieties I have surrounding how we get this bird out of the oven. By the end of the conversation I felt lighter, I felt capable.

I can embrace change - I've learned to - I just wish I could do it with a little more confidence, a little more grace. I've always been one for self-deprication but enough with that BS. I'm ready, and if I'm not, I'll figure it out. This is the path and I gotta believe that everything will bring a chain of love.

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