Two Lines

There is this hill on my typical running route that always gets me, no matter how many times I scale it. Some days I can tackle it with a little more enthusiasm, and other days leave me huffing and puffing with a stream of expletives running through my head. A lot of the time, I just put my head down and focus on keeping one foot in front of the other.

I guess the irony is not lost on me – that is how I have mostly approached the last (almost) three years. After my dad died, it was literally all I could do mentally to function, and a lot of the time, it was more about getting through the next five minutes without having a breakdown. Eventually, the minutes became hours, then days. Not that I didn’t think about him all the time, but I was better able to look at the big picture–the good times, the memories–than just keeping my head down and focusing on my emotional survival.

My recovery from a Traumatic Brain Injury has been much the same way. I wasn’t scared to look up toward the top of the hill–to set goals for my recovery–but I often had to focus on the smaller chunks of recovery. And many times, I had to re-set and adjust my goals along the way. I had to be flexible, which hasn’t always been my forte.

Recently, we took what may be our last trip down to the beach for the foreseeable future, as we finally sold my family’s condo there – the last vestige of our presence there. It was bittersweet saying goodbye, and for a long time, I didn’t want to believe that that chapter was finally closing. I worried that by leaving the beach behind, I would be losing a piece of my dad. I gradually came to understand, though, that it was never the beach itself that mattered – we could have gone anywhere. It was the memories we made together as a family. And while I can’t take the ocean with me, I will always hold the memories we made there in my heart.

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And I said goodbye, for now, to the beach.

I had no idea, though, that less than a month later, Paul and I would be writing another new chapter in our lives.

I am going to be honest.

A baby is something that I have always wanted, but not until the last couple of years did my desire to have one really materialize. Once we finally started trying, everything else happened. I lost my dad. We helped my mom move up here. We dealt with the properties, the radio station, and ourselves. And then I got hurt. In the mean time, several good friends were blessed with children, and I was so very happy for them, truly.

But it was hard. I guess it sounds selfish, and I don’t intend for that – because I truly, truly was happy for my friends. It was just hard to want something so badly and not have it happen month after month. It wasn’t really something that I shared with many people. I know other women have gone (and are going) through the same emotions. It took me a long time to realize that it was completely okay to want something to go right.

Still, this past Wednesday morning, I wasn’t expecting this:

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I probably shouldn’t repeat the exact words running through my head at the time. I was just in total disbelief. I still am.

Wednesday’s blood test confirmed it, and today’s blood test showed everything is on track so far.

As you can probably guess, it’s very early on. So why am I sharing? A lot of women wait until their second trimester. I just couldn’t. I understand that there is always a chance of something happening, but I have determined that I can’t live the next two months full of anxiety and “what ifs.” I have to live the life that I have today, and today I am thrilled and excited.

Through this blog, I have shared the ups and downs of my recovery from grief and TBI, and here I am. I am so excited to share this now.

I don’t have a due date yet – that will come in a few weeks with the ultrasound. But it’s looking like May. Again, the irony isn’t lost on me – my dad was born on May 8. While I am devastated that he won’t be physically here to meet his grandchild, I always carry him in my heart and can’t wait to tell our child all about him. I am grateful that I have my mom, Paul’s parents, and kind and understanding friends.

I am ready for this new chapter and can’t wait to share it.

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