Posts Tagged ‘fear’
both of us
It’s unexpected, I think, this thing that happens when a woman finds out she’s expecting. Of course, I can’t speak for all women who have experienced the miracle of pregnancy, but for me it only took a few minutes after seeing the second pink line on the home pregnancy test to fall madly in love with the microscopic life inside me. It only took a moment to dream a million dreams. It only took a few hours to start craving strange food combinations like kosher hot dogs with mango chutney. And it only took about a day to succumb to a million fears. But then something lovely happened – that little peanut, that little spark of life, taught me something.
You see, the day after I found out I was pregnant, I was driving after dark, tailed by a swerving, veering, speeding two-ton Chevy jam-packed with rollicking teenagers.
“Little shits,” I said, glancing in the rear view mirror as the car nearly rammed my bumper. White-knuckling the wheel, I pulled off the side of the road, breathed in slowly, and let the twerps and the noise of their rap music pass far beyond me. I clutched my abdomen in the hopes of comforting myself and the zygote inside but, in that moment, realized I would not now or ever be able to protect my baby from danger. From idiot drivers. From sickness. From risk. From disease. From any of the dreadful things we experience in all our living and dying.
Even as a new human being came alive in me, I couldn’t help thinking that, while I may keep many things from hurting my child, I could never fend off hazard, uncertainty, death.
But as I pulled back onto the road, soothed by calming breaths and a lesson learned, my shoulders relaxed and my heart rate slowed. The pressure fell away. The fear did, too.
All I would need to do was love this child, I realized. Just love. It seemed little peanut wanted me to know that as early as possible. It would make life easier on both of us.
4 Commentsthe whoosh
I flew around the first 90-degree curve, my heart racing ahead of me right out of my chest. As I continued down the slope with added momentum, I couldn’t believe I was still vertical. But I didn’t have time to celebrate. Within seconds I was upon it: the second 90-degree curve.
I let out an audible whimper, certain of my utter demise. I flailed a bit and did the worst thing I could have done, which was to straighten up and stiffen my legs. I reached my hands out to grab for something, but there was nothing other than hot asphalt.
But I wouldn’t need the concrete to stop my fall. Even with poor form and eyes clamped shut, I felt the victorious whoosh of summer air on my face as I squeaked around the treacherous bend and slowed eventually to a near-halt. After several strides I caught up with my heart, which I placed gently back in my chest, and roller-bladed my way around the soccer fields.
That was kind of fun, I thought once I was safe on level, uncurvy ground. But I’ll never go on that part of the trail again.
It was my first time rollerblading alone and Lord only knows why in my first five minutes I took on a slope that would nearly end my life. I was nervous enough about the flat trails where a twig could send me sprawling. Who would help me if I fell? What if I came upon another 90-degree turn and didn’t fare so well? What if I couldn’t stop and I hit the ground rolling and my cell phone flew out of my hand into the stream bed and I tripped over a tree root and landed under the brush, unconscious, and no one found me for days except the squirrels bearing nuts and berries in their cheeks?
I was thinking about this as I wheeled over smooth pavement sandwiched between soft grasses (just right for falling). And I was thinking about that fear thing again and how it conquers me so many times. And I was still thinking about that when I started going downhill again, ever so slightly. But this time there was no curve. Just a straight, empty pathway.
After an extra stride or two, I crouched low, lifted my head and felt the whoosh wash over my skin. It was glorious. Really something. The whoosh. So glorious, in fact, that I began entertaining thoughts of revisiting my twisty speck of path, of feeling the surge of air and rush of wind.
Maybe next time, I decided as I thought about the risk of tree roots and zig-zagging trails and falling down and squirrels with berries. Because the whoosh is always worth the risk. Always.
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