November 22, 2007
SITBB Vault: Thanks. Full.
| Light posting lately, but I did want to take a moment to wish all a happy season of gratitude. The following post is from a couple of years ago and still rings true for me on this day. It is funny how as adults, we can sometimes attach "buts" to the things that we are (or, at least, should be) thankful for.
Right now, for example, we are in the midst of trying to sell our smaller home in order to buy a bigger one. I am excited at the prospect of moving on and up--BUT... O, woe is me! To be trying to sell in such a soft market! To have to always have my surroundings in show-ready condition! To have half of my belongings packed away so as to give the appearance to prospective buyers that if they moved here they, too, could live such a pristine existence! Instead, I should be thankful that I have a home, a roof over my head. I should recall days when I had to decide whether to pay rent or buy groceries. I should be excited to be buying in a market in which we can afford homes that in years past would be well out of our reach. Right now I am busy trying to manage my first national grant that I recently was awarded (NIAAA/NIH). I am excited that all the hard work of grant writing and revising is paying off--BUT... O, woe is me! To have to now actually do all the work I proposed to do! To risk having my analyses reveal results that are not as promising as I made their potential sound in my proposal! To have nagging doubts that I may go through all this and yet still not be as competitive for a tenure-track job as I hope. Instead, I should be thankful that I am in this position in the first place. I should recall that when I wrote the post below I was still in the midst of dissertation woes, and could only imagine a day when I would be trying to figure out encumbrances, copy code account numbers, and other mysteries of my first grant. So today I take a deep breath and banish the buts. Hope you are doing the same! |
This holiday weekend in 1999: What was I thankful for then? Perhaps I was relieved to have gone a few hours without the terrible morning (actually, "all day") sickness that had plagued me throughout the first half of my pregnancy. Or maybe I had been thankful for an "everything looks normal" verdict following the most recent ultrasound scan of my crowded and expanding uterus. I may have also been thankful for successfully navigating the first couple months of my PhD program.
But there is no doubt about what I was thankful for a few months after that Thanksgiving: These two little munchkins:
I remember walking through our front door for the first time with our daughters swinging from our arms in their car seat/carriers. It seemed strange to suddenly be back in my own home after an extended stay in a hospital room. It seemed familiar, yet somehow completely not. These two little infants all bundled up in their too-big newborn clothes (they were about a month early) seemed to actually warp the space around us as we toured the house with them. As we whispered to them, "here's your new house," "here's the crib where you'll sleep," "here's the kitchen," I sensed that this could not be quite right.
Was everything that these babies needed really here in this little two-bedroom townhouse? Yes, all the outlets were stoppered with clear plastic plug covers. Yes, their cream colored bedding was all tucked in place in their brand new matching cribs. Yes, the electric double breast pump had been delivered and was out of the box. But this place was no hospital.
And who the heck was I?
I recall feeling in those first couple of days that at any moment we would receive a call from the hospital: "We have made a terrible mistake. We are sorry for any inconvenience. But you must bring the children back here. Immediately."
Of course that call never came. Nope. These babies were ours, free and clear. And very soon any such insecurities about my new role as "parent"' evaporated in a hazy cycle of cleaning and nursing, bathing and napping, cuddling and soothing.
Yes. I know I must have been heart-overflowing with thanks for our daughters during those first few weeks--just as I have been ever since. But in a sense these babies were not just a gift to me, my husband, and our family. They were also a gift to the world from us. And so, as the world embraces these now five year old girls and whispers to us this weekend "Thank you" I whisper back, "You are welcome."