Some of my family came to visit today. My mother and aunt came, arms laden with a combination of Chinese comfort foods (steamed buns, ba-wan, tofu and fish) and dishes that are allegedly fertility inducing. Bitter herbed chicken soup, ginseng, sesame chicken soup, eight treasure rice... Asian mothers are funny this way. They will give you plenty of advice about conceiving that borders on superstitious and fret about you being too tired. It might be one of the few times where this doesn't irritate me at all. I don't even bother to try to tell them that most miscarriages occur because it essentially was a faulty batch of ingredients that made the fetus abort itself. I'm finding right now that I am more comfortable with receiving help from those close to me than I usually am. I think it's a healthy thing. Maybe that's the lesson to learn at times like this- just to be able to receive and be taken care of a little. Let that rod of inner strength heal a little after taking a beating so it is ready to move forward again and dare to hope.
I'm trying not to let the little voice in my head that is calculating the months take over. It likes to obsess about how now a 2013 baby is no longer a possibility, how things simply can't go according to its plans. I'm trying, every day, to be kinder to myself, and remember to be grateful that I have all the support that I need.
No comments:
Post a Comment