I mourned and for the first time in my life, I stopped making things. For weeks. For months. I made absolutely nothing. A close friend calmed my panic and assured me that it would come back. I was terrified of how still my hands became. I was scared of how bleak everything seemed - how nothing excited me - how I felt my body was no longer good for creating, but only for carrying death. But my friend was right. The sun began to dawn against the darkness, and warmth slowly replaced my numb heart. I began to have faith again. And joy. And I did start to make things again. I even found solace in creating, and my felting business saw steady growth.
This pregnancy was a bit of a shock, to say the least. Certainly I wouldn't make it to the end. Yet, here I am .... still pregnant .... this time with a little boy. Now just over 27 weeks, I am pushing 7 weeks of bed rest. But bed rest is taking its toll on me and I am slowly feeling a never ending listlessness settle over me. I am determined not to let myself slip into a dark despair as I did last time - despite my health, or Darren's. Today was the most intensely uncomfortable day I have had since I was in Burlington and my whole body aches. I feel as blustery as the weather. Still, I chose to see the good around me.
I was given a beautiful block print of a mother and child this Christmas and it is propped on top of my bookshelf until I can get it framed. It was such a sensitive gift, given with a little note that said "think happy thoughts". So I cling to that. And I sit now in complete darkness (except for the glow of my computer) with my kids running around frantically waving glow sticks. They laugh and laugh; it is good to have such happiness in the house. John made one of my favorite meals to make me feel better and he stayed home today. The kids had delightfully rosy cheeks after being outside. And I love the weight of the quilts over me. Tomorrow I may feel up to working on something.
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