Last week the kids and I drove nearly two hours north with some friends for the annual Tulip Festival in the Skagit Valley. It was semi-spontaneous in that an original weather report indicated Wednesday would be cold and rainy, so we decided to do something indoors. But at ten o’clock Tuesday night I checked the weather again to find a prediction of sunny skies and temps in the high fifties. I started making phone calls around 8am on Wednesday and 10am four adults and four children still managed to make it out the door with a picnic lunch!
I commented to my friend that this was one of the first adventures I’d taken the kids on without pushing a stroller around ‘just in case’ Thomas got whiney or Ruthie would not follow my directions. We are entering a new era of freedom and independence, one in which Ruthie responds to my calls to stay close and Thomas charges forward on sure feet, no longer toddling. This age is so fun – to be able to do things and go places with nothing but a few snacks and a single diaper in my purse. Even at the grocery store the other day I let both the kids walk.
I often think about the possibility of getting pregnant again. For a long time, through my depression and the height of my rage problems, I was sure I’d have to be institutionalized if I conceived again. I am not a happy, glowing, pregnant woman. I puke for nine months. And I’m terrified of being depressed again, and of losing all the ground I’ve gained in overcoming rage.
But in order to ditch the hormonal birth control that was driving me insane, I had to be at peace with the possibility. At least, I had to be 89% at peace. And I am.
While I am enjoying the growing freedom from the labor of childrearing, I would not freak out if the stick turned blue. The worst thing to cross my mind would probably be the 30 lbs I was about to gain, and where on earth it would go.
But if or until any of this actually happens, I am simply enjoying the moment.