As my doctor said today
You can either focus on the two hours when things didn’t go so well, or you can appreciate the four weeks where life was getting better.
As well as the ongoing development of #pndoz to try and build some local peer support, today I was fortunate to have some awesome support from my bestie, a phone call from a wise lady, and a bicycle ride. Yes, it was my first time on a bicycle for over twelve months. And I chose to use Mr. A’s bicycle which is truly comedic as he is about fifty centimetres shorter than I. I was shaking the entire ride, unable to truly trust the direction that the tires would take me whilst negotiating the flapping pannier bag against the back wheel. I felt like something was missing, like a seatbelt. It was the same feeling I had when I rode a motorbike on the road for the first time (oddly though I didn’t get this sensation when I rode my first motorbike ever on desert sand. That just felt right).
Thank goodness I wore a helmet (a legal requirement in Australia).
My bicycle riding experience got me thinking about all the things that ‘they’ don’t tell you about becoming a mother for the first time. That everything in your life will be like riding a bike for the first time in over a year after some major internal and external physical reconstruction. I could feel my protruding stomach rub annoyingly against my leg, which was a totally new sensation. At times I even had to fold it back in under my tights to make enough room for my legs to rotate the pedals. That made the handlebar wobble unsteadily even more so.
Despite the uncomfortable and uncoordinated ride though, I made it to the shops in one piece. The ride home likewise triggered thoughts, but of a different kind. I began to have recollections of seeing, (or should I say no recollection) Master X for the first time. I actually do not recall seeing him. All I remember is being so exhausted I just thought ‘great, I’m done now’ scrounged for the bed, but really my head was expecting me to be able go home. All those adages of ‘love at first sight’ were blown across the room and out of the second storey window of our hospital room.
Even now I look at Master X fondly, but I can’t say that I experience the same love that I have from my mother. Perhaps every mothers’ love is different. I know I love him, but I don’t know if I feel love. I don’t have that earth-shaking, tear-jerking overwhelming sixth sense. And that is okay. Because we are on a journey and although we may have set backs like yesterday, the grander picture has been much more colourful and bright the past four weeks. And I choose to focus on the present and the evening glow that is warming the sky at sunset.