I have been remiss in posting here. I have been silent because I feel like I have nothing to write about. Stagnant. Stuck. Stalled. It's all the same. Everyone knows how I feel right now. What else is there to say?
Some days I feel it is all I can do to get to and from work and put dinner on the table. Three nights within the last week we've had leftover soup. The same soup. With the same muffins.
Other days it's better. I'm pleasant at work, and I can get a few things done around the house, visit with people, make a nice dinner and clean up the kitchen afterwards. I've even started running a bit lately. I cleaned the bathroom this weekend. It really needed it.
After a crushed-hopes-induced hiatus, I've begun pumping again. Perhaps that, too, can be an act of faith--pumping in the hopes that within the next several weeks, we will have news of Baby Girl's future. Maybe in a few weeks we will have a date to look forward to. Not "look forward" as in "get excited," necessarily. Just looking forward directionally, toward the horizon. The next point we need to get to. To Hope for.
See, I'm stuck in a fog of ambiguity. Sometimes it's so thick I can't see my own feet on the ground and have to trust that the next step I take will land on something solid. Oftentimes my trust falters and I can't move... I just stand there, frustrated by my own weak faith and staidness, but terrified of taking a wrong step.
Still, sometimes the sun comes out for a bit to burn away some of the obscuring mist; a bleary, weakly-bright sun that I know is there, though I can't see any firm reality of it in front of me. There are no harsh shadows to make out, no black and white. But I can see my feet, those days. I can see enough in front of me to take a few more confident steps.
Oh, blindfold me, Lord! Then the fog wouldn't make any difference...