So we now know how Jacob is feeling, but how about me? Do I white knuckle it when I see the One Step Ahead Catalog? Do I hyperventilate when I go to Giant Eagle and need to pick up garbage bags only to realize the opposite space of the isle is full of baby paraphernalia? Am I still angry at God? If you haven’t noticed I hate writing about ME. I can write about any other subject, including myself so long as I am abstract rather than the center of attention. Ironic for a middle child who thrives on both positive and negative re-enforcement isn’t it?
So here it goes…a post all about me and my feelings. Right?
As a youngster my dad and mom took we girls to Kennywood. Kennywood is our local amusement park that is home to four of the tamest roller coasters known to man. Yet at 10 the Thunder Bolt was daring and dangerous (and yes those are the tallest hills) and I wanted to go on. I begged as a matter of fact. I wanted nothing more than to be tall enough to ride, and rejoiced when I discovered that I was. My mom didn’t ride but my dad did so he took me by the hand and we stood in line. As we stood amongst the hot and sweaty crowd I watched the cars do several circuits and heard the screams as they swooshed by at the end of a banked curve. Towards the front of the line I told my dad “I don’t want to do this any more, I dont’ want to ride. I want to go ride something else” My dad having stood in line on a hot crowded day made his position equally clear “If we get out of line now we are going home” Of course I did not want to go home, so I got on the ride. Unbeknown to me when the ride started you were plunged down a hill into a ravine. I was petrified, I tucked my head under his arm and frantically repeated “Don’t let me die daddy, don’t let me die” at the top of my lungs. It was 6 years before I was brave enough to dare another coaster again.
Can you imagine? Being 16 and never experiencing the thrill of a roller coaster? Only it wasn’t a coaster as such that got me over my fear. It was the Demon Drop of all beasts. I was in Georgia spending a week with my aunt and adult cousins who insisted on taking me to Six Flags Over Georgia. Having never been to a park this large I had never seen much less heard of the Demon Drop but I willing to give it a try, until we got to the top, once again I wanted to get out of line and off of the ride. Only once at the top the only way down is in the car. Knowing this I climbed in and was strapped down. I clung to the over the shoulder harness for dear life and tightly squinted my eye lids together. I listened as the car clicked out over the nothingness below and waited for the drop, and waited, and waited. Then it came, a rush of air and we were riding the rail to the bottom. All I can remember is not being able to exhale. I couldn’t scream, and I certainly couldn’t breathe. After that experience I realized that
1. I wasn’t dead and
2. I hadn’t fallen out. The safety bar protected me.
Well that is how I feel now. I started the journey with great anticipation for the unknown. Then I got on and was immediately plunged down a ravine before a chain pulled me up again. Somewhere in the middle I held on to my partner and screamed “Don’t let me die” Then I wait what seemed like 6 years before I tried again only to realize that not only was I alive, but that I kind of enjoyed the terrifying thrill when I got back on.
When we have tried for me to become pregnant I feel like I am standing in line. When we have lost those babies I am screaming “don’t let me die” Then after I wandering around the park watching those who can easily get on get off the ride laughing I become a little angry. Why can’t I get on the ride so easily? Why aren’t I laughing when I get off? Then all of a sudden someone takes me by the hand and says “come on lets ride this” and while I am petrified I realize that it didn’t kill me, and yes I want to go again.
That is where I am at. I will be honest I am jealous of those of you who are pregnant, but can’t wait to “meet” the new babies. I have however come to the realization that just because I am in line doesn’t entitle me to a ride much less a successful one, yet if I don’t stand there and wait my turn I will never know if the next time it will be me who gets off smiling. Yet I am past the point where I hyperventilate in the super market, or where I burst into tears when a catalog arrives that I ordered. In reality I am looking forward to getting back on the ride, and hoping that at the end that I get off and am smiling. Where as I think Jacob is like my dad “If we get out of line again we are going home…”
And yes…I know, even this was writing about me in the abstract…