i am having an emotionally achy evening. i can’t quite name it, but it’s the overarching ache that touches everything. a sleeping jude on my chest makes me weep. my beautiful lover kissing my head elicits a melancholy sigh from my lips. the happy is sad. the sad is overwhelming.
it’s the time of year; i know this is part of it. a year ago, my aunt mh passed away, which i wrote about here. and we’re approaching the anniversary of my dad’s passing as well. it’s a season of tristesse, a dear english professor friend once told me. yes. that’s it. some of it.
i am trying to sit with the sadness, whatever its name may be. meanwhile, i am navigating my way through, and doing my best to not let it turn into a depressive episode that keeps me in bed. because there is an 8 week old baby who needs me to be present, and i long for nothing more than to continue to be so.
non sequitur: i finally summoned the bravery to look at my labor and delivery photos, all taken by uncle g. most of them are of the awkwardly nekkid sort, but here is one that sums my labor up perfectly:
notice that i am the only one staying still. i have no recollection of this photo being taken. i was somewhere else, and probably about 7 cm dilated. i’m guessing this is moments before all my clothes came off.
and here is a photo just after little j’s birth. my midwife is actually still enough to be recognizable. (she is the blur in the previous shot.)
i haven’t seen my midwife since a couple days after jude’s birth. i miss her, after such an intense relationship we spent 9 months building. happily, we will see her tomorrow. sadly, our reunion involves me getting a pap. oy.
[edit: i ended this post on a happy note with a story that i’m afraid isn’t mine to share just yet. i decided not to tell it out of turn…]