Jack and I decided a long time ago we would not get ready for the baby until April. This has not been a problem since a) I don't like shopping and b) you know, the whole being scared of the future thing. Even buying maternity clothes involved my mother dragging me to a store and marching me into the dressing room because I was perfectly content mushrooming.
The yard people finished up and what was once a jungle where you might reasonably think the wild things are, is now a yard. There are still plenty of trees, but so much more sunlight which means in a few weeks we can lay down sod and grass can grow. Jack came home today and we stepped outside to take a look at the new yard.
It looks amazing, he said putting an arm around me. Sunflower is going to love playing back here now. I nodded and smiled, I feel so relieved I was wondering where he could play if he couldn't play in the back yard. Jack patted my belly and leaned in close, can't wait until you're here to see the yard we made for you.
And then we looked at each other with surprise. We did this for sunflower. Somehow without realizing we engaged in act of faith that one day he will play here. That he will be here. Myndi reflected on the topic of fear, that either way, hoping or fearing, you have no control, so why not be a little hopeful just for your own sanity. It is so difficult to be hopeful when so many beautiful people are experiencing pain and loss around you, and you yourself have tasted this pain yourself. You know you are no more worthy or better, and that this game of doling out loss makes no sense. It makes you feel like you're all pinned to trees and blindfolded monkeys fling darts at random. It can leave you feeling paralyzed and helpless. I guess the key is to realize you are helpless, but you have to go on and live your life just the same.
I looked at the empty flower beds and turned to Jack, come May we're planting sunflowers.