All that I wanted

February 2, 2010

I just want to be home. Oh that thought was constantly on my mind. I hated the hospital. I didn't believe that I would ever get to go home. I thought I would have to be there through the duration of my pregnancy. That would have been from March until August in the hospital. But I didn't really believe I was going to live through it all anyway.

Home. Home to me then meant health. It meant the way my life was before. I had such a good life. I had nothing to complain about before. Couldn't I just go back to the way it was before? If only they'd let me go home, it all would be as it was before. I honestly believed that. I had no idea that when I got home fear would be sitting in the corner smirking at me. Loss was in every room, every vista I saw before me. Pain had morphed itself into me and made a permanent home in my body. There was nowhere to go to escape it all. But I could still picture the home I had before if I closed my eyes. I could see Jeremy and I puttering around on a Saturday morning. I could see us sitting in the back yard by the chiminea, him with his guitar, me with my coffee. I remembered the evenings relaxing in the hot-tub under the stars talking, planning, dreaming together.

So here I am now. Somehow we've managed to work through the fear. I don't know how we did it. I guess by flashing a light around, pointing it out every time we came upon it, being aware of its presence. And now? I'm not afraid any more. And the pain? The pain is pretty much gone, save for a flare once in a while or a medication adjustment that messes things up. Yes, the loss is still there. The loss will always be there, but it doesn't hurt me every day, even though I think of it every day. The loss has become this warmth in my heart. I don't know how else to describe it. The loss has also become a symbol of strength and resilience to me. And that's comforting in it's own way.

And you know what? I think I have found home again. Six and a half years ago, shortly after Jeremy and I moved to Tucson, I returned to the Midwest to attend my grandfather's funeral. I remember my aunt asking me where home for me was. I told her, "Home is where my husband is." That's truer now for me than it has ever been. Together Jeremy and I have this life. It's reassuring, and comforting, yes, and even fun. And I desperately don't want to miss the fact that I have found home. It was all that I wanted. And now I have it again. How many times do we get that chance? To cherish something we thought we had lost? To learn to appreciate? Not many. So I'm not going to miss out on it. I've found home again.