I've had some unusual moments of late. Each included a surreal and unexpected moment and a calm reminder to myself, "Breathe. Just breathe."
This began when I was pregnant with our first child. We wanted to take the breathing classes together but none were offered on our days off, nor during the times we were off together. The receptionist in charge of signing us up felt this was a pre-cursor to bad parenting. If we couldn't take a simple breathing class together, how on earth would we be good parents. She also thought I had waited too long. After all, I was going to be a Mother and motherhood required a lot more advanced planning. She didn't know that my daughter would arrive via a very unexpected, unplanned, c-section a few days later.
Surgical tables are skinny and cross shaped so the surgeons don't have to stretch. My head was wrapped in warm white towels that shone under the brilliant bright surgical lights. The anaesthesiologist whispered, "Breathe." And, our little girl inhaled for the very first time.
On our first trip to Costco, we filled our flatbed with mega-box diapers, wipes, and a cube of post-it notes to last a lifetime.
I have bought nine.
I have noted, re-listed, reposted, and multi-calendared our lives with plans. Our business bloomed and I remained at my steady, secure full time job as a sex ed teacher. We bought a house. We had a second child. I planned my days from sun up to sundown and tried to plot the future. The receptionist would be proud--what a good mother I had become.
I think of her as I lay on the floor of the school gymnasium. Collapsed and surrounded by medics. The bright gymnasium lights beam over me as my heart flip flops inside my chest. I hear people instructing me, "Breathe. Skye, Breathe." My plan was to kiss my daughters good night but I ran out of room on my list.
music pick for today: