It's been a few months of evolution.
One of the most prominent changes has been my willingness to share my TFMR story. Maybe it's the election and nomination of Amy Coney Barrett but my tribe is feeling pretty low these days. For me, it's felt like a moment in time where self-imposed isolation has resulted in even deeper feelings of grief and anger than before. I'm also so much farther out from my loss of Celine and the babies that could never be. Time hasn't healed the wounds but time has made me capable of speaking about them in a way that no longer catches my throat.
Our family continues to try to adjust to this new normal of COVID stress. Niblet is still entirely on a virtual learning schedule - her underfunded 80% black student filled school district has kids who depend on public transit to get to schools across town from them. The schools have no heat or function HVAC. The windows don't open. There's no potable water because of aging lead pipes, and there was never soap in the buildings on a good day. Sammi is begging to go to school, just like Daniel Tiger.
We're financially ok, and so much better off than so many, but I feel the effects of this life in little ways that become more clear as I lay down to bed. The achiness from working at a little ergonomically terrible antique secretary style desk far better suited to writing correspondence to a husband out on the Western Front than running spreadsheets on multiple devices. The clenched jaws that make me thankful for my parents helping to subsidize my needed invisalign trays. The constant headaches, which were partly the result of needing progressive lenses. The extra 5 pounds that came form never really having time for an exercise regimen. The wonky cycle - menopause or stress?
None of it is earth-shattering, but the sum of their parts sure are something.
