Thursday, April 26, 2012

what is mine - part two, heart


Recently I mentioned being happy - so happy at last with where I am - and wanting to tell you about it.  After thinking about it for a couple of weeks, I finally gave in to the need to to tell you where I've been, first.  Part one was about my dreams, and you can read it here.  Part two is about my heart:




Moonglow, lamp low
All I need is a rainbow
And true love
Just like sugar in my coffee

Moonbeam sleeping
All I need is a sweet dream
And true love
Just like honey in my tea

The sky says goodbye
With the wink of an eye
Bright blue yawning to the west
Windows are shining
As the sun goes down fighting
And the houses on the hill
Are getting undressed

Moonshine dreamtime
All I need is a goldmine
And true love
Just like sugar in my coffee

- Eleni Mandell, Moonglow, Lamp Low


Somewhere in the midst of all the mess of my life in Los Angeles, I met Jimmy.  Well, really, I met him near the beginning of the mess, on my first film.  He was one of the very few bright spots of that job, and as time went on he made a point of helping me to get to know the best parts of LA so that I couldn't hate the town completely, despite my wreck of a career.

He was seeing someone else when we met, but our friendship outlasted that relationship and somewhere along the line evolved into its own relationship.  It was rough waters to start - he needed space to recover, and I was afraid to let him have it.  So when we eventually, somehow, moved past all that and he proposed to me, almost four years after I first met him, I was terrifically surprised.  Wonderfully.  I said yes, and five weeks later we were making our promises on a little patch of beach in Malibu.  He was my best friend, my best encourager, my kindest critic, my favorite person.  Ever surprising and ever there for me.  And handsome.  My love.  After the wedding, we wound down the Pacific Coast Highway alongside the late afternoon sun, and caught an international flight out of LAX.  We spent the next week happily stumbling through a grey and rainy April in Paris, and I knew I was the luckiest. 

I think Jimmy was blindsided when I told him soon after that I wanted a baby.  Truthfully, I hadn't been sure I would ever want children until the moment I said it.  But something about knowing he was mine, knowing he wanted me, knowing we were bound together, at last...  I wanted to make us into our own family.  A part of him, a part of me, and a new soul to last for eternity.  And teeny tiny yummy toes.

So, maybe just maybe, I might have been a little extra gooey in love.  Always more levelheaded than me, Jimmy needed some more time to see it that way.  A year, he said.  And the next year he repeated himself - let's talk about this next year.  I had to remind him that we had already waited a year, and formulated some pretty solid arguments on the idea that we didn't know how long it would take us to be successful - that some couples tried for months and years before they conceived.  He relented.  I was pregnant the first month.


Pregnancy was hard.  And worse, I didn't feel any sort of magical attachment to the baby in my belly.  I felt strange, and sick, and tired, and sick.  One day, late in my first trimester, I was so awfully tired of feeling sick that I wanted to cry, but I was too sick.  I was sitting on the 110 North, stuck in traffic below the old tunnels, and wishing I could just open the car door and vomit onto the pavement.  But I couldn't.  Not because I wouldn't - I prayed every day for throwing up because it seemed like it must be some kind of relief from the constant nausea, but I just never could.  That morning, looking for help, I called my mom.  She tried to encourage me, and cheered me on, reminding me to just focus on the miracle happening inside me.  She meant well, but I was frustrated.  I didn't feel any miracle.  I felt like I'd been invaded by an alien, one who made me pray for a chance to puke all over the Pasadena Freeway during rush hour.

By this time I was working at the first good job I'd had in Los Angeles, and the intention had been to try to stay there for as long as possible, maybe even returning after the baby was born.  We figured out pretty quickly, though, that the best decision for us, financially at least, was for me to quit altogether.  And so I did, with many tears.  All that struggling for even a slightly decent job, finally finding something good, and here I'd traded it in for motherhood - something I'd never actually dreamed of doing full time.  

Maybe I hadn't thought this through.


 
Next:  I'll finally get to the point.  what is mine - part three, this, here, now 

photo credit - one of our handful of wedding guests, I'm really not sure which.  Eric?  Erin?  Paul?

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