Monday, May 08, 2006

Growth Spurts

Many women feel that they truly become adults when they become mothers. I feel that I've truly become an adult by trying, unsuccessfully thus far, to become a mother.

Last Wednesday, the morning of my surgery, I woke up and showered, as instructed. I ran my hand over my navel, birth-perfect for the last time. The largest incision would go there.

I washed my legs, and noticed how strong and muscular they had become. I had started a vigorous exercise regimen in preparation for the surgery. (I believe it paid off, in that my recovery was smoother than I had anticipated.)

I groomed and dressed, and arrived at the hospital actually smiling. I laughed at the OR team's jokes. I breathed calmly as I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke, feeling tired and crampy, but otherwise ok. I sat, alone, reconnecting with my body, until my family was able to join me again. I saw my husband enter on the other side of the recovery room, and waved and smiled to him.

In the succeeding days, I let my mother mother me, aware of the paradox. How is it that I felt more of an adult by accepting that I needed my mother to care for me the way she did when I was a young child?

My belly was rounded and swollen from the surgery. I wore soft pants that sat low on my hips, like a pregnant woman. During these days, I was, and still am, very conscious of my stomach.

Several months ago, my good friend Mrs. Harridan brought me a gift: an avocado pit that she had cared for and planted. I watered it and watered it and sunned it and watched it and waited. When nothing happened, I confessed to her that I thought I had killed it, and my avocado pit would never bear fruit. Nevertheless, I kept watering it and waiting.

Ty and I had basically given up hope for the avocado. Then, one day, I noticed an almost-imperceptible purple shoot. I wasn't even sure it was a proper plant; could it have been a weed, or maybe even a fungus?

No. Ty confirmed it was the avocado. We kept nurturing it, more cautiously than ever. It has grown and grown!

Thanks for all your thoughts, wishes, prayers, and comments. I am going to go now, before I beat this metaphor to death. Oh, and if this post started out promising given the material and then went steadily downhill, it's not because of my abilities as a writer. It's, um, the pain meds. Yeah, the pain meds.


Anonymous TB said...

Welcome back. I hope you are feeling better each day. I look forward to hearing what the doctors found in your surgery.
Also, mmmmm..... guacamole.

12:08 PM  
Anonymous V-Grrrl said...

I can appreciate the avocado analogy as my husband and kids (the Greenies) tended a nasty looking avocado pit. When nothing happened, I wanted to toss it. It took six months for it to reveal a stub of a shoot out the moldy, cracked pit. Five months after sprouting, we have a tall stem and four leaves!

Hope your sore swollen belly sprouts too.

12:46 PM  
Blogger Mrs. Harridan said...

I think your recovery was pretty amazing, since you seemed to be in rather good spirits and almost-fully functioning. You strong like bull! I am hoping all the best for your eventual success - it's gonna happen. :)

And I am psyched that the avocado is finally growing (it sure took its time!). I'll post a photo of mine so you can see how great it's going to look soon (and with very little care or attention).

So glad you're back! :)

12:59 PM  
Blogger Mignon said...

It's great to see you back and wonderful that your recovery has been better than expected. Please can you tell me you're going to buy a pair of those sweet tango shoes as a little self-congratulation gift?

Nice going on the avocado, too. Your heart must have done a tiny little skip when you first realized it had actually sprouted.

1:08 PM  
Blogger Tink said...

Welcome back Arabella! I've been thinking about you a lot lately, sending my wishes along for a safe recovery... And good pain meds. Looks like both were fulfilled. :)

1:16 PM  
Blogger mama_tulip said...

Arabella...I thought of you so much last week and over the weekend. Take good care.

3:20 PM  
Blogger wordgirl said...

I hope that this is more than a metaphor. Truly, I do. My best wishes are that your hopes and dreams come true. Can't wait to express that in person.

12:42 AM  
Blogger Arabella said...

Thank you all for your comments! It feels good to be back!

8:53 AM  
Blogger ptg said...

Glad you survived. Whatever you do, don't give in to the urge to probe your laparoscope incisions with a knitting needle or pencil. No matter how much they itch.

12:43 PM  

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