ON JUMPING

headband via thief and bandit

photos via rebecca baust

this afternoon i took a little photo of my stack of purchases as we waited to be rung up at the drug store. 

it's called duane reade, this drugstore. it's a chain out here, and one time when my sister was visiting and we were racing across town in a cab she peered out the window and scoffed, "dwaahhnnnn. even your drug stores sound fancy," and then i laughed because it's duane as in dwayne wayne and no, it's not fancy. 

even as i was taking the photo i rolled my eyes at myself. for one thing, what in heaven's name was i going to do with that photo? for another thing, i was sure it was obvious to anybody walking past the register what all was going on in my life these days by the looks of that pile. it was one of those piles, you see.

the more i thought about it on the walk home, the more i knew there was something in that pile that i needed to make peace with. generally when i feel this tugging i'll head to my computer to drill it down into something i can see and make sense of. but this was something i didn't want to have to write about anymore. i started pushing the stroller faster, like i could out run it. but still, this tugging. tug tug tug.

and so, here i am. again. this topic. 

a twelve-pack of diet coke, upon which sat a seven-pack of ovulation predictors, a two-pack of pregnancy tests, a kit kat bar, and then a little bag of clomid like the sad little cherry on top. to the side, about seven million fruit squeezies for evenings when huck's plant intake has been too low for my liking.

oh, that stupid pile.

i am that pile. that pile is me. everything in my life in one lump sum of drug store products. hopes, dreams, successes, failures. that pile was solid ground and that pile was the edge of the cliff. 'cause this is it. that pile is the ledge i am about to jump off of, eyes shut tight, fingers crossed for luck. my legs are ready, but i have no idea where i'll land.

  

i'm worried it won't work. what if it fails and something more invasive is required to get my body to do what it's supposed to want to do on its own? i don't like that idea. but if i don't try i'll never know, though some days i'm not sure i really want to know. 

and those squeezies. they remind me that this time it is different. this time i have a baby. i'm already a mother, negative results can't take that away. so the stakes are much lower now. this is not 2009. i have fought this and won this before, and there's no reason i can't fight it again. but i have such a hard time remembering this, even though i feel so strongly there's another one waiting for me. weirdly, i feel like i've known this second baby for a while. since the day i found out huck was going to be a boy, i've felt this second presence with me. i know it's worth the jump. 

that little pile today. i hated that pile even while i felt oddly proud of it. that pile is me. my every worry laid bare. that pile has the potential to change my life. i think i'm ready to find out how. 

so here i go.

i'm about to jump.