As I cut up peppers for my egg scramble this morning, I thought about routine.
In the fall, one of the challenging parts of being pregnant was my day-to-day routines were thrown out the window. Some combination of exhaustion, disinterest in food, morning sickness (in the afternoon) and overall feelings of terror and excitement rearranged my day, every day. Of course, I was happy to roll right along with it – I knew it was only a small section of my life and that this wasn’t a forever situation. I kept perspective, and really, I understood that a child would disrupt my life so completely, that any incremental shifts I was making at the time would be learning experiences for allowing it all to change.
After the loss, I was thrown even more into a no-man’s land. It was the weird excitement-for-the-holidays coupled with the winding-down-the-year time, not to mention grief is a bitch. There was so much energy swirling – people stressed about the holidays and traveling, people ecstatic about vacation and the holiday season, everyone wondering if they were feeling/enjoying/being as present as they should be. Then my own desperate comprehension of where I was post-miscarriage and how different 2016 looked again and again.
The two weeks off from work and our trip back east were a major blessing. It gave me a total break from our day-to-day life, apartment, dog-care and work. It gave me time to grieve. The time with family let me just be, carried along by visits, dinners, shopping and doing. It was very, very tiring, but somehow gave me a clean break from the closing of 2015.
Now that I’m back, I’m appreciating the return to normal life. Yesterday’s re-entry was a bit rough, but I managed to process all my emails and start to wrap my head around the next 3 weeks (which hold the largest, most important annual work events).
Today it’s pouring rain, which is a rare occurrence in LA. I’m taking full advantage. The Hermit tarot card appeared in my reading this morning. I have tea, music, books, a new planner and my laptop all set up. I got out of bed before 7am, vegetables are back the menu (when pregnant, I couldn’t eat most raw veggies), and I have the capacity to deal with work tasks. I have quiet and alone time and peace.
I wish it wasn’t this way, another January grieving another miscarriage. I wish I was celebrating the appearance of a baby bump and the surge of energy that comes with the second trimester, but instead, I’m back to my usual routine. My regularly scheduled program.
My tiny, gorgeous life.