Wednesday, June 29, 2011

the calm

I think there are a few moments in every life that will always stand out as being extraordinary. Anyone watching these moments from the outside would think nothing of them, but to be in these moments, there is clarity and passion, and a feeling that in this very instant your whole life is falling into line.

Both of my moments have felt the same. The first was forever ago, shortly after David and I had met. It was in the middle of a swirling snowstorm, in the middle of the night. It was so early in our friendship that we were still so awkward about touching each other; so much so that if our arms brushed up against each other while we were walking, it would feel tingly and exciting. David was leaving my dorm after bringing over a CD he had burned for me and the next day, we’d both leave Denison and go home for a month for the holidays. We had already said goodbye, but it didn’t feel right. I asked David if I could have a hug, and he came back to meet me, and we stood in the middle of the quad with the snowflakes falling around us and we hugged. It felt like the whole world was spinning and still at the same time. In the weeks, months, and eventually years since that moment on the quad, David and I have tumbled through our relationship, and all the ups and downs that have shaped it. We've laughed and we've fought, but through it all, I have to say I never really questioned whether this was how my life should be.

Right before Ellise was born, David and I were alone in the delivery room for a few minutes. We were listening to a song from that CD that David had made for me years earlier. We put our heads together and sat there without saying anything. All the memories of the things that had brought us to that moment came flooding over me. I was overwhelmed with every emotion that I’d ever felt, and at the same time, also felt completely calm. I had a sense that “this is it.” Whatever had happened before and whatever would come in the future were all settled in this moment, of us being together about to start our family, and knowing that everything was exactly as it should be.

It’s not (too much of) an exaggeration to say that every moment following that one has been chaotic. We’re still struggling to find our new life, figure out our new roles as parents, decide what is important to us and how to fit that into our daily adventures. If that doesn’t sound daunting enough, I have to admit that 14 months later we’re still trying to figure out how to keep our floors, dishes, and clothes clean, plan meals, save money, take regular showers, keep our dog from running away and (most importantly?) be nice to each other now that Ellie demands so much of our attention. The pessimist in me wants to say that most days we fail at most of these tasks. More objectively, I can realize that at the end of the day, regardless of whatever happened, we’re still all happiest just because we're together and I hope that’s the only thing that will ever matter.

As we're looking forward to welcoming our second daughter into our crazy world, I'm thinking frequently of these moments that had the power to remind me of what was important in my life; hoping that I can find a way to realize that no matter how out of control every day is going to seem in the next few months, everything is really exactly as it should be. (That's so much easier than trying to actually figure out how we're going to wrangle both of the kids...)