Monday, April 13, 2009

My Dream Deferred

When I was pregnant with Willa I spent the hours on bed rest imagining the things we would do together. We would see movies at the theater, gorging on popcorn and candy. We would investigate the gardens of Pennsylvania, prying open the petals of spring or fall pansies to look at the lady within. We would bake ill-conceived cookies and laugh at our clumsy results. We would take long walks on the shores of our Lake Galena, her in her stroller, me in my full glory parading my daughter about the periphery of a man-made lake dotted with small sailboats.

Now certainly this year has not been without adventures. We have learnt the inner workings and labyrinthine doings of the hospital. We have strolled the corridors from the MRI suite to the cardiology floor and back again. We have welcomed friends and family members who are so loving they come to us, though no one lives close by.

This past year I put aside my dreams for Willa and my time in the more immediate concerns of her health, her development, the formulation of a program for her care, assembling her team. Movies, cookies, strolls were as out of reach as Paris, the moon, long division.

But spring is here.

I heard the last churn of the enteral pump last week signaling the end of Willa’s 3:00 feed and I made a decision. I, with my daughter alongside, was going to charge the evening. I loaded Willa into her car seat. We took the short trip to the fabled Lake Galena. I put her in her stroller and we strolled. In my full glory I paraded my girl up hill and down, round bends and back again, spying the daffodils burgeoning in the woods, seeing the bluebird in the field, feeling the long forgotten sun. I walked so far I took all the skin off my toes and felt nothing. I walked so far with her that I was sore for days afterward. My dream was now my evening. My hope was now my life.

There are moments when you have these funny little successes, things that were just so banal and effortless in your previous life you cannot imagine that one day they will be your personal climb up Everest. But that walk was. That walk took a year to get to. And it was so worth it.

2 comments:

matthewdotjacobsen said...

It sounds like you almost certainly shouldn't give up on Paris or indeed The Moon just yet, but I'm truly glad you recognise so lyrically just how distant a dream your grasping rudimentary mathematics is ;) xxx

Chrystal said...

I'm proud of you and very, very happy for you.

It took me about a year to climb as well.