For a moment

I was driving a company car a few days ago. Had just finished a left turn into the median, checked the lanes to see if there was traffic (none) and began merging into the lane. I hear my co-worker beside me say something frantic. As I’m trying figure out what she is trying to tell me, a truck crashes into the side of the car. This time I felt clear headed and collected. Perhaps I had already expended all my frustration at the near hit last week when Mr. Warrior was driving. Perhaps my reaction last time was due to my volatile premenstrual hormones and now I was floating in my post AF calm. Perhaps it’s because I have finally realized that there are many things in life I can’t control. After all, relative to miscarriage and infertility, this was small in comparison. The people involved were mostly ok and it was 90% certain the other driver was at fault. Really, this was just a small glitch in the overall arc of my life. This accident was just one bad moment.

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When I was pregnant, there was one morning when I was only the one working in an office annex. The radio was on and 100 Years by Five for Fighting came on. As I listened to the song, I began crying silently. They were tears of pure joy. Listening to this song and being pregnant, I felt so connected to the world, to life. And I felt lucky and grateful to have what I had. I felt like for once I finally got something I deeply wanted without having to work and plan and struggle for it.

Since then, I’ve only heard this song a few times by chance on the radio and on TV, as I never owned a copy of this song. Each of those times, as I listen to the song, I cry silently and

I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way
A family on my mind

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Tonight, I sat down to finish a knitting project and decided to use this downtime to listen to all the songs on my iPod for the first time. My brother had given it to me as a belated birthday gift and part wedding gift. The wedding gift part was to load it up with songs. 100 Years was one of the songs. As I listen to it tonight, the familiar sadness, the silent tears and the aching surfaces for a moment. Subsides. Then surfaces again.

Tonight I realized that these moments will always be a part of my life. But, maybe I am learning to live with these moments. You see, that knitting project? It’s a baby toy for a pregnant friend due in May. If I can feel these moments of aching and sadness while knitting a baby toy and just feel those moments without directing anger and hate towards my pregnant friend and pregnant women everywhere, well, then maybe I have the wherewhithal to make it through whatever is in store for me.

These tears I’ve cried

I’ve cried 1000 oceans

And if it seems I’m floating

In the darkness

Well I can’t believe that I would keep

Keep you from flying

And I would cry 1000 more if that’s

What it takes to sail you home

Sail you home sail you home

--Tori Amos