Splitting

It's funny. I've had friends and family tell me the same thing dozens of times. It was only after four months of it that I finally understood. The conversation would begin with me sighing, "I just don't understand why he hates me so much. I didn't do anything. He's the one at fault." The response was always some variation of, "he hates you because he hates himself."

It was last night that the light bulb finally went off. Sitting cross legged in bed with my LSAT study guide, orange highlighter, and post-it pad, I stopped mid-question and said out loud, "Oh." The realizations cascaded across my psyche one after another. As understanding swept across me so did acceptance. Splitting. Devaluation. Denial. I slapped labels on previously incomprehensible behavior and it suddenly made sense.

It never had anything to do with me.

Car Seat Installation

"You saved the box, right?" "Just in case you need to look at the instructions again?" The answer I left unsaid was, "So that I can return it if this pregnancy ends poorly." The full force of my confidence hasn't yet returned. I'm 31 weeks pregnant and I still worry that something will go wrong between now and...well...forever.

Sothis doesn't worry. Lucky guy. After my father installed the seat I buckled one of his stuffed animals in it. (One of Sothis' stuffed animals not one of my father's.) Sothis carefully avoided stepping on or over the seat. I left the stuffed bear in for our drive home all the while thinking that in a few months Sothis and I may be making this drive with an infant and not a stuffed animal.

It wasn't until I hopped out of my car three hours later that I found the car seat empty. Sothis, now asleep, was curled up in the back with the bear between his paws. I'm sure Perseus won't mind.

Padawan Learner

"Congratulations Antigone and Jekyll!" The e-mail stared back at me from my inbox.

Oh...I guess everyone doesn't know. John, a previously close friend who I'd lost touch with since moving from Texas, had just heard about the upcoming birth of Perseus but not about my pending divorce.

I typed a response. It was almost dismissive, "Jekyll and I separated in June when I was 10 weeks pregnant. He went rogue. It was pretty nasty. It isn’t as gloomy as it sounds. I’m doing really well. I know single parenting will be tough but I’m excited."

Within a few minutes he replied. He responded the same way all of my friends had with optimism, humor, and an expression of unequivocal belief that I could pull this off. John's last line was, "if young Perseus is in need of Jedi training or learning the ways of the Force, I am available for consultations."

And then I remembered. John was raised by his mother alone. He'd only met his father once or twice. John was always one of the funniest, wittiest, smartest guys in the office. Everyone liked him. One of the few times I saw a shadow cross his face was when he'd talked about his absent father one evening years ago while he walked me to my car after work.

Do I for one moment believe Perseus' father will give Perseus his box of 1980's Star Wars figures? No. Do I believe my pal John would teach Perseus the ways of the Force if asked? Absolutely. It's a bittersweet acknowledgement.

Soon I'll Swim

The divorce will be finalized on December 12th. To all intents and purposes, I've been divorced since August, but in less than 30 days I'll be officially and irrevocably divorced. If he were asked I'd guess he'd say he'd been divorced since June.

It was inevitable. Any change in my behavior over the last year or two, change in decisions made, altered arguments, would have only delayed this moment by a year or two. I would have lost myself completely by then, the recovery that much more difficult.

I sit here and I reflect. I shared five years with him, lived in three states with him, lost three pregnancies conceived with him. And now I will parent without him. I will live without him. I'm glad to be free from him and yet I don't regret all we shared.

His wake propelled me, continues to propel me towards the shore.

D-minus 29 days.

Waiting for Snow

There is much that I miss. I loved the snow and the mountain vista. The houseful of pets. Curling up in the oversized chair by the fireplace. I miss driving through breathtaking foothills on my way to work. I miss the empty nursery where I hung brightly painted wooden animals. I miss the dream of the family which would fill that house with love and laughter.

Five years from now I may sit at my computer and look to my left to see 4 year old Perseus cuddled up with Sothis on a dogbed sitting in the corner of my office. While gazing at the two, the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen, as Perseus' stepfather makes dinner may pull my attention. Before pushing my chair away from my desk I may look up and see a law degree hung on the wall in front of me, next to a framed photo of my finishing a 2009 marathon. To my right I'll look out the window as snowflakes gently fall in the dark.

That potential moment five years away from today is what keeps me going. I just need to hold on to it. I just need to continue to believe that it exists and that it waits for me.

These Common Hours

"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours." - Thoreau

"Sothis! Walka-Walka!" I whistled and waited, listening for the sound of his metal tags clinking together or of leaves trampled upon. Nothing. "Sothis!" I'd stood outside calling him in the lingering dark just before sunrise half a dozen times before. He wanders off into the adjacent woods from time to time.

I slowly walked up the long driveway, towards the mailbox. I wondered why I wasn't more concerned that Sothis hadn't returned when I called, as he usually did. I dug my hands deep into my jacket pockets, kicking an occasional acorn from my path. Still no sign of Sothis. I picked up the Washington Post and stood at the top of the hill scanning the front page before walking back down the long hill.

Shortly after moving here Sothis ran off into the wooded wetlands. I'd chased him that day, eventually giving up and walking home. My heart thumped wildly against my chest, my eyes welled with tears, I was certain he was lost for good. But this morning my pulse and thoughts were calm. I knew he was okay.

Now at the bottom of the hill I caught movement from the corner of my eye. His black tail, wagging and upright moved across the brush. "Sothis! Where were you?!" He ran through and around shrubs, brush and various undergrowth coming to a stop once he reached me. Side by side we finished the walk home.

So much has changed these last few months. I still have my moments of despair and anxiety. There remain some mornings that my first thought is one of grief and anxiety; however, each day that passes leads me away from the past I mourn. As grief fades, so does the constant vigilance and anxiety. Between the undergrowth of anxiety and grief I find I'm able to walk more confidently towards the future.

Fall Colors

While waiting for my appointment on Friday, I gazed out the window of Dr. Spleeney's waiting room. The previously verdant trees and shrubs were now bright yellow and red. I counted them.: three red shrubs, one yellow tree, five red shrubs, one yellow tree, three more red shrubs. All perfectly aligned between street and parking lot. I was mesmerized by their orderly vibrance.

I thought about my first appointment in that office, a few weeks after moving here in August. I looked out the same window that day too, only it was to hide my tears. I didn't notice the shrubs that day, though I know they were there, green and in the same line. I wonder what else I'll one day notice that was always there.