Transition

Last night at another gorgeous sunset I wept for the ghosts of our current space. Change is coming, and though a year away, I know this will be our last summer in this happy place where we loved and studied and thrived and hoped, were newlyweds and will be new parents to our newborn...a child who won't even remember our happy little apartment next to the park. A child who will definitely change my amazing, happy marriage. I am so grateful, and so apprehensive.

Change is good, but change is hard, but change is good.

On NPR yesterday there was a story on the author who wrote "where the wild things are" and the speaker pointed out that childhood is hard. I remember childhood being hard, too, not because of anything my parents did or didn't do, or anything particular to my experience, but just because change is hard, and as a child you are in constant transition.

Your clothes don't fit, your friends are in metamorphosis, you are challenged and learning at every step, even your family might be growing, so your role shifts as new siblings show up and you acquire new responsibilities. And I remember that being difficult to deal with. In my own family, just when we hit a lull, a few years in elementary when I might have stayed in one school and gotten to know routine, we moved to a different country.

I want to remember that challenge, and be compassionate when my baby shows up and goes through changes. Our awesome childbirth teacher pointed out that people sometimes sarcastically say "oh it's so hard to be a baby" when infants cry or fuss, but... it is! and for your own family to fail to acknowledge it can make it harder.

I need to be more compassionate toward myself, too; I've had a rough week, physically- don't worry, everything is fine, but- my body is so different than I'm used to. I take up more space than I ever have. I have to move slowly or risk pulling a core muscle, or getting lightheaded. I'm too tired to do anything with my hair (oh, so I have to stand in front of a mirror? and put my arms above my head the entire time? no thank you), so I've been feeling pretty frump. But (as my lovely husband reminds me) my body is accomplishing something right now. Something amazing. It is growing a healthy human, a whole human being! and that is quite a resource sink. So if my skin is dry and itchy on my belly and my face breaks out, well... that has to be ok.

In sum, the difficulty of transition deserves compassion. I can love my current apartment and my future baby, and not love this week of pregnancy or the prospect of finding a new home, and acknowledge that progress isn't just about finish lines or total bliss or gleeful novelty. It can also be about saying goodbye to good things.