The Flip Side

I have listened to a lot of Creedence Clearwater Revival over the last few days
And so has Dahlia when we've been driving in the car together.
She now knows most of the words to the songs about rain -
Have You Ever Seen the Rain and Who'll Stop the Rain,
And is truly appreciating some good ol' rock n' roll.



Something about that music just makes me feel good... better.
It helps that my period is over and my hormones are on the more pleasant side of their up-and-down cycle.
There is a lot of clearing happening inside me, too...
I don't discredit that and blame it all on my cycle.
It is a LOT of letting go.
That's what the tears are doing - clearing, cleansing, processing, releasing.
Moving through the month leading up to Tikva's birth day,
Remembering, reliving, reconnecting with how everything felt within and around me in the month before she was born,
When I still carried her safely inside me.
Except now I can connect with the fear, worry, sadness, mistrust that I felt then
Undistracted by the hope I was also able to summon up.
Because now I know that Tikva didn't live for very long.

I think I knew even then that she would only be with us for a short time,
Even if I never quite admitted it.
I couldn't then.
How could I?
I just loved her.
Purely.
Completely.
No matter what.
And yet I still knew, I think, that I would have to let her go a million times
Until I finally had to let her go completely.

Dave said to me the weekend of the March for Babies,
Only if you let her go, will you have her forever.
He's right, I know that, but it still breaks my heart.

I found out I was pregnant with Tikva when we were in the Sinai in Egypt, on a vacation during our time in Israel.
We were actually in Petra, Jordan the first time I suspected it,
The day my period was due and we walked for hours and hours around this incredible relic of human history that I had dreamed of visiting for years,
And I didn't feel tired at all.
Lying on the quiet beach in Nuweiba, Sinai,
As Dahlia played with the little Bedouin girls who were trolling the beach selling cheap jewelry from China,
I began connecting with the little one I felt growing inside me.
And I couldn't quite settle into peacefulness about it.
Something nagged at me just a little, and I felt a consistent twinge of cramping in my right side that made me worry I was having an ectopic pregnancy.
I attributed my worry to the fact that I'd miscarried before, and it was harder to trust that something wasn't going to go wrong again.
I even had an ultrasound at 7 weeks to prove to myself that my baby was indeed growing inside my womb,
And I felt the most amazing comfort when I heard her heartbeat at that visit and every subsequent visit to the doctor.

I wonder now if I wasn't connecting with something bigger on that Egyptian beach.
I wonder if perhaps a part of me knew, in that way that we are - I believe - able to time travel to different times in our lives and something can speak to us about all that we don't know yet in our minds, but feel hints of in our hearts.
Did something in me know even then that I would lose this child after loving her for 47 weeks of my life,
And a lifetime afterwards?

Did I tell you about the hawks I saw the day of the March of Dimes walk?
The one soaring over the trees of the Presidio in the distance as we walked along the San Francisco Bay towards the Golden Gate Bridge on a beautiful crisp blue day?
The one who visited Laurie and me that afternoon in Golden Gate Park?
We were on the grass talking, stretching our tired legs, and Laurie looked up past me and there was a hawk, not even 10 feet away, standing over some rodent it had just caught, and looking at us with its huge eyes.
Laurie had heard me talking about our Tikva connection to the red tail hawk, but she hadn't seen it yet.
She was totally blown away, and so was I.
I just looked at its big wide eyes and largesse.
Then it flew just a few inches above our heads - wingspan so wide - and went to a tree with its prey.
And what about the hawk who visited me later that evening?
When I was turning on a video for Dahlia and Maia in the living room and I was helping Dahlia close the curtains to block out the glare of the setting sun, and a red tail hawk flew directly towards me standing at our window - wingspan so wide - and landed on the telephone pole just outside our window.
He sat there for a really long time, long enough for Dave to capture on film, before spreading his wings and flying off towards the park.
I don't think the hawk hangs out this close to just anyone around here...
I lived in San Francisco for almost 10 years in another lifetime, and never once noticed a hawk until we returned last spring.

Tikva was so close to me that day, so close.
Dave joined me at the window with his video camera and said,
You get that. It's different than what you expected, but it's what you get.

I imagine I will always feel Tikva's presence and her absence side by side.

Driving over the Golden Gate Bridge on a foggy misty day listening to Creedence with Dahlia,
I was able to feel appreciation for my body, in spite of - or perhaps because of - our complicated relationship.
I was able to appreciate my strong immune system and the fact that I got just one mild 36 hour cold all winter.
I was able to appreciate how well my digestive system works, consistently, after all these years of struggle.
I was able to appreciate my strong mind,
My lungs that are strong (I never appreciated my lungs like this before knowing Tikva),
My legs that hold me up, grounded on the earth, in spite of the flab they carry,
My ears that can listen to music,
My voice that can sing along on key
(I would have loved to be in a rock band),
My ability to dream, to dream big, to point my ship in the direction of what I desire.
I felt deep appreciation for the ever growing and deepening love I get to share with my husband,
A man who is completely and forever committed to me, to us, to our family.
For the amazing child that is Dahlia, growing so magically before my eyes into a being like no other.
I felt appreciation for the rain that is cleaning the air and nourishing the earth outside.
I felt appreciation for the friends who hold me, who understand me, who know me sometimes better than I know myself.

Last night on the couch, Dave looked down at me as I cried with my head in his lap.
This has not been a fun year, he said.
It hasn't. It's been the least fun year of my life.
I have felt moments of joy, yes.
I have felt the deepest love imaginable.
I have been burst wide open and forever changed.
But it has not been a fun year.
Dave said, Let's have a lot more good times together.
More good times... I need those.

I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain
Coming down on a sunny day?

I have.
It's all there, always there together - the shadow and the light.
The sorrow and the joy.
Rain on a sunny day.
Sun shining from behind rain clouds.