stressy mcstresserson and her soundtrack

You know how I said that thing about challenges last week? And how great they were? I’VE CHANGED MY MIND.

Okay, maybe not… I’m going to hold fast. But SERIOUSLY? The last few weeks? And the coming couple? Insane! Sweaty! With lots of extra nervous bits! I drove to work today. I didn’t take the bus because I left too late, and then it took me –no lie- 75 minutes to get here. 75 minutes to drive 22 miles, people. I love living in the northwest, but the TRAFFIC? Quite the nightmare.

As I was driving, I was listening to my ipod. Jefe has this really fantastic jack that allows me to plug my ipod directly into Jefe’s sound system – no need to worry about pesky radio frequencies. This one song by Imogen Heap came on, and I listened to it about 5 times, letting it bring me back to a time last summer, when having a baby was still an idea for Chip & I.

My back is all kinds of jacked up. I don’t talk about it much because there isn’t much I can do about it, other than keeping strong and doing a million exercises – all intended to keep my lower back from crumbling down upon itself, much like a little pile of those Jenga! blocks. There is severe arthritis (yes, I’m 33); there are herniated disks (yes, more than one); there is chronic pain; there are lovely boney pokey-outy bits that probably make a soothing scraping sound deep inside my innards. We’ve been on the road to having a kid for a while – much longer than people would ever think – because of my back. We’ve had doctors tell us a thousand different things about what a pregnancy was going to do to my own precious Jenga! block spine & pelvis. There have been tears and frustration and resignation and hope and a thousand other emotions. Last summer, we embarked on yet another round of diagnostic tests. There was this one particular day I spent on the campus of Northwest Hospital, doing MRI’s and bonescans and blood tests and other fun things. The weather was a beyond-perfect August day: sunny, deep blue sky, a light breeze. Between a couple of the tests, I sat outside, listening to Imogen Heap. And I felt hopeful. For the first time, I felt like this whole thing was the first step in a great journey – and at the end of it all, I’d be holding a little baby that was a little bit of Chip and a little bit of me and a lot of indescribables. After letting the sun soak into my rain-weary skin, I went back inside the hospital and lay down in the bonescan machine. I closed my eyes and smiled, listening to Imogen, knowing that everything happens for a reason, for a purpose. Amidst the little Jenga! blocks that are the components of my life – even when they are tipping violently to the left or swaying dangerously to the right – even when a few of them tumble down and fall at my feet – I feel like it’s all worth it.

Today I’m trying to hold everything together, even as little bits fall. I can go back to that day and feel good about how far we’ve come. And how far we have yet to go.