There’s been a word hovering on the tip of my tongue for the past few days. I’ve been battling to keep it under wraps. It’s the kind of word that popular culture has seized and turned into a hashtag. The kind of hashtag that frequently annoys me (yes, I am a judger of hashtags). The more I try and replace this word with something different though, the more I hit a brick wall. Because the word pretty much sums up perfectly how I’ve been feeling in the very recent past.
I’ve been feeling blessed. So very very blessed and deeply grateful for so much of what is happening around me at the moment. I posted a few weeks ago about the difficulty I was having, or at least the challenges I was facing, with coming off my medication. This was paired with a decent helping of ‘did we make the right decision to move?’ quavering and maybe a hint of loneliness. Add in the constant nausea and general hormonal upheaval of pregnancy and things weren’t looking their most peachy.
In what many will recognize as being the go to coping mechanism of generations of women, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, hoping that things would start to turn a corner and arming myself with the necessary strategies if they didn’t.
I’m still not certain what caused the initial swerve into a new lane but I started to notice, maybe 10 days ago, that things were shifting. Maybe its due to the focus I’ve been putting on living each day which has allowed me to see the small signposts of forward progress a bit more clearly? Who knows? I just seemed to be feeling more.. Happiness. More contentment. Feeling grateful to be able to be at home with my son, instead of sad that I’m no longer at the office. Enjoying being a mother to a toddler whose personality seems to have taken on a life of its own in the past few weeks. ‘Who is this kid and how is he so funny?’ Is something I’ve said to me husband numerous times in the recent past. Feeling the happy squirms (I can’t describe it in any other way) when we’re reading Peter Rabbit and chubby little fingers point earnestly to Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton-Tail while a questioning voice says, ‘hop, hop?’ The gloriousness of cuddles that come with a running start.
The happy squirms culminated last Thursday when I was slammed with a feeling of such intense gratitude last that it almost took my breath away.
I was driving along the highway, on my way to Sydney for our 12 weeks scan when I glanced in the rearview mirror to see my sleeping son reflected back at me. He was cuddling his flat bear up to his face as he slept, completely relaxed. ‘I am the luckiest woman in the world’ i actually whispered out loud. Though I try and recognize the good in my days and have in the past kept a gratitude journal, it’s been awhile since I actually put pen to paper. In that moment though, I couldn’t not acknowledge how incredibly lucky, grateful and indeed blessed I felt.
A couple of hours later that same day, I hopped up on the ultrasound table for the scan. I was almost sick with nerves. Less than a minute later, we were staring at our tiny second child, happily swimming around in my currently very spacious womb. Two beautiful hands, two feet, 10 fingers and toes, a perfect little heart.
Driving home later that night, after sharing the news with family and friends, a sleeping future big brother in the back, my husband asked how I was feeling. Was I happy? Happy didn’t quite sum it up. There we were, driving back to our lovely home with our son in the back, after seeing our second baby healthy and happy. ‘I can’t even describe how I’m feeling,’ I said. ‘How did we get so lucky?’ was what I eventually answered with.
I’m certainly not expecting that the usual trials and tribulations that come with pregnancy, motherhood and general life living are in the past, if the past two years have taught me anything it’s the unpredictable nature of life, but for now, I’m going to accept this blessed bomb and bask in it’s loveliness for awhile longer.