Tuesday, May 11, 2010

nothing left to say

since saturday, my dear k has been consistently bleeding.

it blows.

how many times have i said it here on this blog? those words, that is? or something like them? it blows. it sucks. fuck it. damn. hard times. suck. etc. etc. etc.

i am trying to be all in the present about it and all that lovely bullshit, but guess what, at this point in time, i'm over it. plain and simple over scavenging for remnants of dreams that are yet to manifest into concrete flesh and blood before my eyes. the day when i feel the little being's scrawny paws upon the tender, yet sharp, curve of my collar bone--when the soft little animal unfolds in ringlets of new skin before me--until then, i will curse the wind and the rain and yell out profanities to the stars and then reel myself back into the present, this moment and take it for what it is.

and what it is is this:

people, we are so fragile and fleeting. at anytime it all could stop for you. at anytime we could be the 25 year old pga pro golf player found dead in her home on a sunday. or we could be the one to be sideswiped by an 83 year old woman who should have had her license taken away 8 years back. (and hell no I am not an ageist; i am a fucking realist).

often, i want to really be okay with all of this passing on that happens before our eyes. i want to know that we leave some kind of imprint--for good; for bad; for always. we do, and still, we do not. we are flashing. we are leaves. we are strong and green and flapping in the strongest of winds and then we fall heavily to the ground and dry up and break down into something else. hopefully, always something life-giving.

but, how do i capture that moment of waiting to know if what is (or was living inside of kk) is still alive? how can patience fortify itself in a heart that desires more than anything to know. to know what is real. to know what is next, and still to understand that we can never know what is next.

i can remember being in the 5th or 6th grade. my parents were gone out for the night and, of all things, I sat on the toilet and started to cry uncontrollably cause i realized my mama could die and not come home. i realized one day the person i cared about the most in the world could and would be gone. i cried and cried and my chest heaved with sadness.

today, that person has shifted to my kk. and now it has shifted to the two lives before my eyes. the life of my lover--the upper quadrant of my heart and this other life trying to forge a path to our world through her womb. and so when the blood is made visible and this threat of new death dangles on the edge of her being, i am paralyzed and devastated.

and now, i have nothing left to say...

10 comments:

f said...

Oh no, no no no. It's spring, it's your time for a new narrative. It does blow. All of it. The not knowing, the knowing, the uncertainty, the waiting, the fleeting and the fragile. And yet you somehow make a world out of it, with it, through it, not in spite of it, but because of it. But it certainly does blow. I am hoping the blow will blow on by, and soon.

Any chance you can get in to see your doc again? The kind one who took good care? Was just thinking of y'all and I'm sorry this is the news you have to deal with. Take care of each other and keep us posted. xoxo

vee said...

Waiting quietly with you and hoping you both find a way through this unbearable unknowing.

jay said...

hoping too xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

starrhillgirl said...

You leave an imprint. On your people there near you, on those of us who are not so near. We hear you and we remember and we hope you hear us, too.

I am waiting and hoping and sending more love than can be written - up and over across the mountains and north again to you. Go outside and open your hands for it and then carry it in to k to hold on to.

motherwilling said...

I'm holding you in my thoughts as you hold each other in time, waiting for an indication of the path ahead.

andrea said...

Try and stretch your heart open, nat. this is scary, it blows. you are already parenting. much love to you and k.

Farmer Femme said...

all my love and thoughts and tears for you. i'm holding space and hope for you all. xo

Mrs. Basement said...

ditto what they all said.

f said...

just wanted to say hi. and crossing my fingers and toes. xo

lesbonurse said...

Sometimes waiting is unbearably harder than knowing...I'm so sorry you two have to go through this. I'll be thinking hopeful thoughts for you.