*sigh*
What a big week. This column was written three weeks ago back in October. It’s challenging to prepare something for a future date, especially for a week which will have been historic, and without knowing where we, as a society, will be at that moment. At the time of writing, nothing is certain except that at the time of publication, it is likely that half of us feel relieved and excited about the outcome of election events earlier this week — and half of us feel devastated and concerned. And so I’m not going to address the elephant (...or donkey) in the room. At least not directly. Rather the “What now?” of it all.
This week, and specifically this day, Nov. 7, is even bigger than anything in the news for our family. It is our daughter’s birthday. Lucy, which means bringer of light, arrived 17 years ago today at a time when we were in desperate need of some sunshine. She’s the hardest working and most tender-hearted person I know. No contest. She makes me very proud and I’m grateful for the privilege of raising her.
Going through my pregnancy with Lucy and delivering her was the second hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. The first was delivering her sister, some 21 months earlier, who was unexpectedly and unexplainably stillborn after a normal, full-term pregnancy. During an excruciatingly worrisome pregnancy with Lucy I had to fiercely defend my happiness and sense of positivity. I was selective about what books I read, shows I watched and phone calls I took. If something or someone didn’t leave me feeling uplifted, I didn’t do it. I’d hunker down and steady myself before big medical tests and be more social in the days after receiving good news. Staying on the sunny side of things wasn’t a choice, it was survival — for me and my unborn child.
Before each ultrasound, I’d pray the same prayer I say today before critical medical appointments for myself or loved ones: “Give me the peace and strength to accept whatever news it is that I’m about to hear.”
I guess my thinking is that whatever result that test revealed, it was already underway. The moment something good or bad happens is not the moment when that ultrasound wand is over your body, or that image is snapped. It’s already in motion. The current is set, inviting us to move forward with it.
Forward is exciting and bright, terrifying and unknown. But if we want to get there, that place ahead, there’s only one way to go. Everytime I look at beautiful Lucy, I am reminded of the gift, and power, in the insistence on moving forward.
— Carissa Kapcar of Hinsdale is a contributing columnist. Readers can email her at [email protected].
