It’s definitely looking like a sunny day today, in every sense. Maybe it was watching the sun rise while listening to Lord Huron, by chance?

I was in the middle of one of those dreams, where you’re so thirsty and, even though you’re taking huge gulps out of a clear, tall glass of water (which inexplicably just popped in), you’re still parched? Like, almost choking on your spit because your mouth is so dry and the water feels like it’s pouring right through you? It’s been a minute since I’ve felt that in my real, waking life, but this morning, that’s what I was dreaming about. I was also super sweaty, as well. I guess that’s where I began to blur into reality because I remember waking up this morning, sweating and thirsty. I opened my eyes to see little beams of light poking through the tiny cutouts on my lace curtains. It was still a reddish-orange hue, like a carnelian stone (my favorite!), so I gathered it must’ve been around 6:30. Back to sleep or no? No didn’t mean I’d go downstairs and do something productive, it just meant I’d get on Reddit and watch morning things, which I did. Today, it was this. I love snakes, so I was excited to get into this rabbit hole, when I started to hear the thumps. Wow, this early?

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. And in he ran, directly toward the same window that I was staring out of a few minutes earlier. “I want paint!” My baby. And God dammit, he already wants to get his hands on a device. I almost broke my back trying to lug him onto our bed, but we did it (mostly his efforts), and I just wanted to squeeze him more than ever. Like, khad his kachoomar, just give him so many squeezes. This feeling increases each day and I feel like Husband and I say it out loud every time we see him. “God, I love him.” So I proceeded to do exactly what my mom would do to me, which I hated btw (and also conveniently forgot in this moment), I hugged him tightly and wouldn’t let him go. I hated being hugged. It didn’t register to not do this shit until I was warming up his waffle, thirty minutes later, and it just hit me. Wait, what if he hates this? Well, I sure hope not but I’ll give it a rest until he requests my smothers. But in the moment, this morning, I was delightfully squeezing away. Every time that I touch him, my mind takes me back to a very specific place and time: our master bathroom in our first house in Austin. The night I injected myself with the first shot. The amazing pharmacist at Tarrytown Pharmacy was walking me through the entire process, well after his pharmacy had closed. I was petrified to take the injection, to do IVF at all honestly. It was now all on me. Sameer talked to me, as I looked down at my abdomen and stuck that puppy right in. Husband hugged me and we stood there for what felt like ten minutes. I ended up doing three rounds of IVF in the span of two years. I have feelings about my experiences and consider writing it out, but it seems to take from my emotional reserve, which I like to ration and hoard for Child, Husband, and Sister. But this morning, while squeezing the squeals out of Child, it was all worth every single ounce of energy (and trust) that Husband and I put into the process.

I bribed Child to come downstairs with me, because no rest was going to be had at this point, and he slowly made his way down. The sun looked insane as it continued to climb up, and was flashing through the big kitchen windows. Child realized a device wasn’t in the cards for him, so he noped out and rushed right back upstairs to Daddy, his hero. My new therapist is always telling me to go outside and “get some sun”, but it’s freezing and my bones start to hurt, so I don’t. I figure this is the next best thing and, on sunny days, I sit and soak in sun as I have my one cup of coffee, which is a whole thing in itself. Today, I decided to add a soundtrack because, why not?

As to not complicate things, I figured I’d open Spotify, and press play to the first song on the first playlist, “PNW Roadtrip”: Meet Me In The Woods, by Lord Huron. I mean, how appropriate. I continued to sit, eyes going from open to close, enjoying the compete opposite energies that each view provided. Then the next song came on, The Night We Met. Oh, well holy shit, it’s been a minute. And just like that, my mind was back at that house, but this time, in the backyard. Crazy how songs can just do that, right? Just take you back to a place and time, like there hadn’t been any space between then and now. This song used to upset me so much and it wasn’t necessarily the words, or the somber tones, but the place and time. We were so sad, Husband and I. We were alone and hopeless and sad. I hated this song because it was randomly playing one night, as the two of us sat in our backyard and looked up at the stars. We did that often back there, just look up at the trees and stars. We were also heavily influenced by alcohol every single time. On this night, we were searching for any semblance of hope up there, a sign. We’d been obsessively looking for signs for months after losing the baby. Do you think she can feel us? And then this song started to play, quietly, like background noise. That connection has always been there, I guess, but it’s been many years since I’ve visualized those moments and even longer since I’ve heard this song. On that night, we were drinking as well, quite heavily. That was by design, since we were both clearly trying to not think about our current reality. Husband’s father passed away, weeks after our loss, only adding to our existing grief and confusion. We had to drink, or do something, because reality was rough. At least that’s what we thought, so we kept on keepin’ on and somehow didn’t die. I also started to smoke again, because I had previously been heavily addicted to nicotine. I loved it because it kept me energized, active, and social. It also left me feeling horribly anxious because I knew it was killing me and the lack of value for my own health was disturbing. I didn’t like it but, at this point, I felt like a slave to my addiction. That’s another thing I remember about that night, under the stars. All the goddamn smoke that was hindering the actual view of the stars, on this otherwise clear night. We were fucking up our own view and couldn’t even see it. I tried to dig myself out many times, but kept falling short. It was too hard to forge a new path, and too comfortable to stick to the routine. Life kept getting real, providing endless excuses as to why “now” needed to be “tomorrow”. Sister was in a medically-induced coma for ten days, so of course I needed an escape to cope with seeing her in that state. Husband was grieving the loss of a baby and parent, how could I possibly provide support without a buffer? There were other things, like weddings, parties, “going out”, that seemed impossible to do as well, without a social lubricant. Hanging on to the notion that those far-and-few-between events would suffer, I chose not to think about the negative aspects, at the expense of a healthy daily routine and outlook.

I watched the sun for a few more minutes, this morning, before I began to make breakfast for Child and get him ready for his day. Husband was packing his lunch box and putting away little blocks on the floor and we both looked at each other and, at the same time, said, “I think I love him more than I did last night.” As they walked out the door and closed it behind them, I decided to listen again. I sat in the chair, still placed in front of the window and closed my eyes. I pressed play and listened. This time, it hit differently. We can’t even connect with those people anymore. Crazy how that happens, eh? For me, today is 2,088 days alcohol-free and nicotine-free. On my five year anniversary, six months ago, I had taken a solo trip to the desert for five days. I explored, did things, saw things, and I loved it. Highly recommend. ✨