"This time last year" can have such a sad ring in our little corner of the internet: This time last year I thought things would be different. This time last year I thought 2011 would be my year. This time last year I had hope.
I'm remembering what I wrote at the end of 2009. At the end of 2010. How I looked back at years filled with loss and sadness and desperately clawed my way to whatever measure of peace and fulfillment I could. How I tried my damnedest to dwell on lovely vacations and home renovations and every happy moment with Lawyer Guy in order to fight back the darkness that threatened to overwhelm me.
I'm sure I don't need to say how stunningly joyful 2011 was and how gloriously grateful I am that this was, in fact, finally "our year." For me, there is an additional element of reflection, though: the cycle in which Smudgie was created started on New Year's Eve 2010. At every OB appointment, when they asked "When was the date of your last menstrual period," I remembered crying in the Bahamas as I watched the fireworks over the harbor. I remembered holding LG's hand as tight as I could and challenging the future to do it's very best to break me. And I remembered the surge of strength I felt in spite of my tears, knowing that I'd learned how to survive. And once that sort of reminiscence begins, it's hard to stop: I think of my first yoga classes two years ago, how I finished every session crying silently in shavasana and would walk home in the cold and dark praying that all we needed to get pregnant again was a little exercise.
For those of you with new babies or big bellies this year, I hope you spend New Year's
Eve drinking in their sweet faces, their beautiful kicks: the most intoxicating champagne I can think of.
And for those still waiting and wishing and despairing, I hope 2012 is the year in which life finally turns sweet again. I'm proof that it can happen more suddenly than you'd believe.
Happy New Year.
Reinvention of a blog
4 months ago