Appointment

I did it. I just made the call.  I have the appointment on April 9, at 3:10pm. And I just don't know what to think.

We've been over it time and again. Should we, or shouldn't we? How long do we continue in this journey before we attempt a detour or a bridge or, heck, a map? If this is successful, will it still be considered 'natural'? My confidence just flew out the window as intervention looms imminent. All of a sudden, I feel like we're adding in a benchmark in this nebulous journey. A time we may look back on as the decision that changed it all. Maybe.

It's not a big deal. It's just a little pill full of natural stuff that makes your body do what it is naturally supposed to do.  So why do I feel all weird inside? It feels like another death, I suppose. A death of the idea of spontaneity and free-spirited-ness. A death of the element of surprise. A death of the way it should be. A death to my idea of how I wanted it to be.

I never wanted it to be like this. I never wanted interventions. I never wanted the grief. I never wanted the hurt. I never wanted the temperature-taking and the calendar-timing. I wanted the "I'm a week late and almost didn't realize it!" I wanted the easy. I wanted the freely given and received intimacy without an awareness of the calendar. I wanted to stop buying tampons. I wanted it to be natural.

I've grieved so much on this journey already. I never thought it'd be like this.

The wind chimes tinkle outside in the spring breeze. It's a season for new life, new beginnings. Not death.