I tell you what…if finding out I was pregnant after a trip to Spain was a way to learn things such as, the sky is the limit, throw caution to the wind, live life to the fullest, OR, say, the opposite, like, be careful, look both ways when crossing the street, always bring an umbrella, well, then the last week has been good for me, in a hellish sort of way.
|The age I would be at time of delivery. (Graffiti in Barcelona)|
And by “good for me” I mean, “Holy Ship My Pants, Batman!” Please know, I don’t mean this disrespectfully. I know, KNOW, know many women who have longed to be mama’s in their life time’s…some never experiencing it, others having only gotten to treasure it for a short time, some never getting to hear their sweet babies cry, or meeting their child face to face. I, too, have had 2 miscarriages and lost a yummy sweet boy sooner than I ever imagined possible. I am not discounting these longings, whatsoever.
|Translation: Do not let your dog ship its pants here in this public space.|
But I won’t lie when I tell you that for the last few days I have had irregular breathing patterns thinking about the “what if’s” if I were, indeed, pregnant. And I won’t lie. Those days were dark in my head and heart.
Last night as I fell into bed I told my husband I didn’t even need to lower myself down, I simply collapsed under my own body weight. Still not having shed all my “Viva Espana” weight, then getting PMS like nobody’s business (I NEVER have it, NEVER, no cramps, no tenderness, nada), I was sure we were in for a surprise, and not like, “Ooooh, awesome!”, but more like, “Holy Ship My Pants-ness, Ryan’s going to be a big brother?! #$%^&*.”
I named off two friends I’d consider giving our baby to, since they are looking to adopt. My heart was heaving and not thrilled at the thought…at all.
What can I say? Yes, I celebrate and love children, but these are the real thoughts that went through my head and heart. I’m sure you’ve never thought this. Clearly, I suck more than you.
Before I drifted off, however, I told Jason, “If it’s a girl, I’m naming her Georgie.”
This morning I looked at my calendar, counted days, tried to remember what I was thinking or if I had been thinking and, HOLY SHIP MY PANTS, were we even thinking? I rolled out of bed, pulled up my bootstraps, and actually smiled at the new found peace that had settled into my heart over night.
“Georgie…totally. We’ll name her Georgie, and maybe her middle name will be Madrid or Barcelona.”
I headed into what is usually one of my favorite days of the week: LAAAAAAA! Thursday. My day. A day where Ryan hangs with our fabulous babysitter and I head to the library, word-nerd heaven, where I sit amongst books and thoughts and dreams to read and write and enjoy the quiet.
First stop, the coffee shop for something with almond milk, “to-go”. Second stop before setting up my portable office at the library: the ladies room.
(The following is a text conversation)
A: “You’re lucky…”
J: “That made me laugh.”
A: “I’m glad my bleeding uterus is funny to you. I almost shipped my pants with worry!”
A: “But, the name Georgie for a little girl IS fabulous!”
A: “Maybe it’ll be my pen name…hmmm, yes!”
J: “Your pen name should be Georgie or Bleeding Uterus?”
A: “Probably Bleeding Uterus. It’s raw, catchy, authentic…”
I’m not sure I’ll use “Georgie” or “Bleeding Uterus” or something else entirely as a pen name, but I do know this: I will always write vulnerably and with authenticity, because this particular lesson from Spain is: life doesn’t always turn out as we plan, but I already know from experience, it can be more beautiful than we ever imagined.
*And, a couple bonus “Lessons from Spain:” menses symptoms are greatly affected by how clean one eats. It was a reminder, and a heck of a way to re-learn this, but my body tells me things and I need to listen. Moderation. And, make that appointment…
|Foods that contribute to monthly bloating, mood swings, and cramps: amazing churros from Barcelona|
|A picture my husband said I’d never post since it’s not flattering…I don’t know what’s not flattering about eating an entire crab by yourself, soaked in butter, but arrrrrr, I love crab! Living it up, eating without regrets/symptoms in Espana.|
|Laguardia, Espana, aka, Wine Country, being kissed by my prince on top of a castle…*alcohol, another contributor to monthly swings.|
|More on the food tour: constipation and bloating, I mean ice cream and molten chocolate cake with some sort of awesomeness on the side…|