I'm going to have a tough day at work today, meetings with the charity and with my client and with the school her son attends and lots of serious stuff like that so I've got some panicking to do about whether I'm qualified to do this sort of thing lol. But before I go off and do that I have something that I just remembered that I have to write down while it's still fresh. I don't know if I've told this story before, but anyway, it deserves retelling and at least I'll remember where I wrote it down when I next feel in need of it.
I was heavily pregnant with Morgan, past my due date I think, and feeling very rested. I'd bonded with her very well already and was only slightly impatient to meet her, I was even certain that she was going to be a girl - I'd dreamt her asleep besides me in a pink sleepsuit, several nights the same dream just watching her sleep. This particular night I'd gone to have a relaxed bath after Jenna was asleep, and I was lying listening to the rain sounds on the roof besides the bathroom.
I could hear every drip and patter, and was feeling hyper-aware and alert, when a flash of white light lit up the navy blue sky. So there I stood in the bath, huge belly cradled in my hands, leaning out of the open bathroom window with the wind howling and the rain lashing down and bright trails of fire racing across the sky. The storm lasted for about half an hour before I withdrew, cold and soaked and trembling with power.
Yesterday another storm, swifter and less fierce, left me with the same breathless feeling only far less joyful. The glorious sky and the power of nature is somehow different when it's not so easy to trust that the same power is within your own body, and I'm lacking any trust right now that I will carry or birth another baby as I did Morgan. Perhaps also it's that my bathroom will always now remind me just a little more of labouring to birth a baby that I would never get to know, rather than the triumph and animal pleasure of a natural birth and the memory of the wonderful pregnancy that preceded it.
Anyway, tough chicken questions still await me, but in breif I've had them back in the same pen together this morning for a good while and they've been fine. Gloria looks to my untrained eye like she will be fine, and so hopefully we won't have worst-case-scenario chicken euthanasia to deal with. I'll be back later with more updates, hopefully all good ones. What a stressful day, I'm glad the childen are with grandparents.