Sometimes I get embarrassed of this blog and the things I write on here. I feel like I'm a little too dramatic and emotional, and I make too big a deal out of things that really aren't that big a deal. Like maybe I should skip all this blogging nonsense and write in a journal like a normal person instead of sharing my thoughts with strangers on the internet.
But I also feel sometimes like honest feelings should be shared more, and often I write something I'm nervous about (this, for example) and realize that other people feel the same way. It's nice having people who can relate to what you're feeling. It makes me feel not so alone, even if I am being a tad dramatic.
So here's something: today, I'm feeling sad.
On Friday, I went in for my six-week postpartum checkup. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was a little caught off guard by how anticlimactic it was. My doctor came in, examined down there, took my blood pressure, weighed me, asked me if I had any questions, then proclaimed me healed.
"You're good!" she said with a smile.
"So... I'm good. Like, healed?"
"Yep! All healed."
"So. I'm... done then. I'm good," I repeated like a moron.
"You sure are!"
It was weird walking out of the doctor's office. For the last 9 months I've gone at minimum once a month, more like once a week near the end, and now I'm just... done. I wanted to ask her if we could meet for coffee or something next week. I might not have postpartum depression, but I think I have separation anxiety from my OB.
I work about five blocks from the doctor's office (which was super handy for appointments), so after my checkup I brought R to the office to say hello to my coworkers. I also needed to pick up my laptop, because as of today I am back at work full time. I'm working from home for the next few months (PRAISE THE LORD), but still it's back to work for me.
On the way home after leaving the office, I cried.
The last year of my life has been trying to get pregnant, going to see an infertility doctor, getting pregnant, being pregnant, buying a house, having a baby, and then adjusting to this new life. And now, it's over. I'm healed and I'm back at work, and it's just all over.
It's not that I'm not excited about having a baby and watching her grow. It's not that I don't love feeling more settled in our new house. It's not that I actually mind my job, because I'm lucky enough to sincerely enjoy what I do. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens this coming year with all of its changes.
But for today, at least, I'm sad that this season that has been my life for the past year is over.
And maybe that sounds dramatic and silly. Maybe tomorrow I'll wonder if I shouldn't have just skipped the post and written this in my journal. But maybe there's someone who can relate to mourning the loss of one season of life. It was a hard season, filled with anxiety and stress and lots of tears. But it was fun too, and it was exciting and new, and today I'm allowing myself to feel sad that it's over.
I found this quote online from ND Wilson's book Death by Living that was sort of sad and encouraging all at once. I'll end with this because I can't think of anything else really to say but I feel like this post needs an ending.
"The world never slows down so that we can better grasp the story, so that we can form study groups and drill each other on the recent past until we have total retention. We have exactly one second to carve a memory of that second, to sort and file and prioritize in some attempt at preservation. But then the next second has arrived, the next breeze to distract us, the next plane slicing through the sky, the next funny skip from the next funny toddler, the next squirrel fracas, and the next falling leaf. Our imaginations are busy enough capturing now that it is easy to lose just then. But some moments cut so deep they cannot be forgotten. They scar (for ill or good). They usually touch life itself, or some glimpse of what life could and should be. Or the opposite. Starting lines and finish lines; glory and grief in between."