On the cusp
As we approach Isla's second birthday, Dan and I are balancing feelings of loss and regret with hope for the future. We are happily anticipating the arrival of baby Johnson #2 in April, and feel incredibly grateful that all looks perfect with this baby's health. We have the benefit of not feeling first-time parent jitters; after all, many of our common fears about parenthood were alleviated with Isla, although our greatest fear was ultimately realized.
At this point in my pregnancy with Isla (about 7 months along), I remember feeling nervous about caring for a newborn, wondering if I'd love the baby as much as my dogs (!!), scared at the prospect of spending a promised minimum of 4-6 weeks in the hospital as she had her Norwood procedure. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting in to, but I was full of hope. I don't regret that mentality one bit; after all, there's no way to prepare for the "what ifs" in life, so I tried to take life with Isla (both in and out of the womb) day by day as much as possible. I am grateful for that conscious attention to the present moment now. Despite aches and pains, I'm trying to just enjoy being pregnant with a healthy baby and not fret too much about the future.
At the same time, my emotions have a highly ambivalent undertow. I feel as though I'm balanced on the cusp of a huge transition, which of course I am, but more so than I'll ever be in my life again. Once the baby arrives, Isla will recede further into history. It's inevitable, and a sign of life and progress to be celebrate, but it's also absolutely heartbreaking. As a woman who is visibly pregnant, I get asked all the time whether this is "my first". While the explanation doesn't always go smoothly, I am grateful for the opportunity to talk about Isla to strangers, and I always tell them so. I feel awkward when I imagine how future conversations may go ("is this your only child?" well....sort of). I worry about constantly comparing our new child to Isla. I wonder how we can raise this child so that he or she knows an older sister without it being cryptic or confusing. I ask myself what the hell I actually know about caring for a newborn without a doctor's constant guidance--particularly after s/he reaches 5 months of age....then it's a whole new world for us!
So for the time being, we are enjoying today. I am again embracing the "it's all going to be OK" approach and can't even fathom the worries that parents of healthy kids have (SIDS, teething pain, guilt of dropping kids off at daycare, etc.) When I get freaked out I remind myself that the worst possible has already happened, and I am prepared for anything. Even if my some cosmic terror the worst possible happens again, it would be familiar territory for me, so I feel prepared in some strange way.
We lost our pit bull Remi a few weeks ago, and we miss him a lot. I remember when our previous dog Jake died, it was, up to that point in my life, the most traumatizing thing I had ever experienced. I had so much regret about not taking enough pictures, not enjoying his presence, not catching him before he ran across a busy street. Now, losing Remi is very sad, but it's manageable. I know how fragile life is, and I make it a point to tell each one of the dog (oh, and my sweet Dan of course) every single day how I love them, how happy and grateful I am that we are spending time together and how much their presence enriches my life. I did this with Remi and now that he's gone unexpectedly I feel less of a sense of loss, because I know he was appreciated each and every day.
So while we have an eye on the future, we are looking back and trying to remain in the present. Right now we are taking time to remember Isla, watch a ton of videos, organize pictures, and acknowledge that this is the last time we have together as a family of three. It's a happy future, but still in many ways a painful transition.
