Not What I Expected to Write This Morning

Little specks of diamonds twinkle off the snow surrounding you with the beauty that can be winter. This was the first day of the new year, with the sun shining, walking through Fish Creek Park on the way to a nice little tobogganing hill for the little one.

It's easy to get bummed out in the winter. Cloudy days, temperatures plummeting into the absurd, road travel becoming near impossible. But then there is this. Tucked away for anyone to see if they want to.

It probably wasn't the easiest holiday season for me. After discovering a tubal pregnancy at the beginning of December, long evenings and mornings spent waiting in emergency, a dose of chemo drugs to dissolve the pregnancy, it was easy to want to curl up and do nothing for a long time. Not to mention, nearly the only thing I could do. Anyone who has experienced chemo drugs will understand just how much it takes out of you. I was fortunate that I only had to get one dose. As one of my Facebook friends said, "It's the chemical equivalent of being hit in the head with a 2x4." She was not kidding. You might want to get up and do something, but your body tells you otherwise. The tiredness that comes hits you so hard and so suddenly, it takes everything in you to just get up off the couch and walk to the bathroom. And dizzy. Nearly all the time. Sitting. Standing. Lying down. It doesn't matter. A sudden move, or no move at all, could send you to something that feels much like trying to sleep after a night of over-drinking.

Fortunately, my HCG levels have come down quickly. Dropping by half in the first week after the injection. And slowly, very slowly, I began to feel more like myself, only slightly dizzy. More blood tests, which I have to continue until hormone levels reach zero. (Last update from this past week, levels are at 182. Dropping great, but not quite gone. Another blood test this week and fingers crossed, that's it.)

The holidays were good. Filled with laughter and love from friends and family. But you know, there's this little voice inside you sometimes reminding you that, "hey, you lost a baby." In many ways it really was a relief. But it still doesn't change the fact that there was the beginnings of a tiny human trying to grow and become a bigger human, but nature wouldn't allow it. It doesn't hurt. I'm not mentally or emotionally unstable over it, but I am saddened, even though the thought of starting over again with a baby, to a toddler, and so on, made my stomach wrap up in knots. Not to say I wouldn't have loved it as much. But sometimes, when you work so hard to get to a point in your life, make goals, reach goals, and then something unexpected threatens to deter you from those goals, it makes you feel just a little bit out of control. I don't like feeling out of control.

Like when we got to the sledding hill.

I haven't been on a sled or anything that will send me screaming down at hill at uncontrollable speeds since I was a child. (unless you count snowshoeing last winter and falling on my butt in slippery snow pants. Fortunately, the creek at the bottom was frozen solid.) And I had no intention of doing it again. But after several runs with the child on her own, she walks up the hill and says, "Mommy, you want a try?" My first instinct was to say no, thank you. But there was something in those little eyes that said I better give it a shot.

I climbed on the little sled. She decided she would come with me. And there we went. Sliding down a hill. Her squealing in enjoyment, me clenching my teeth praying we don't tip over.

Well, we didn't tip over.

But we swerved slightly and hit a bush.