The Distant Past,The Could've Been Future, and The Beautifully Busy Present

We're stuck in a rainy pattern. Again.  The up side is that while a month ago there were no leaves on the trees and the grass was more brown than green, now things are a lush jungle. The down side is that by day 5 of the rainy stretch, I have lost my motivation to do anything but fall back on my 2 favorite vices, chocolate and fiction. I'm still on too much of a "classes are over!" high and a "spring is here!" celebration to do anything like be depressed.  But getting any of those projects I planned done  - where did the first half of May go?

Jeff and Molly have been keeping insane schedules in spite of that.  There is not a single evening in sight for the entire rest of the month that is activity free.  Not one. I can kind of leave Jeff to his own. Though he totally owes me dinner at Francesca's.  I'm just saying.  But Molly - she requires transportation.  Lots of it.

Violin lessons every Tuesday night.  Confirmation class on Wednesday nights.  SSYO rehearsal on Sunday afternoons. 

Then there's track.  Every week day evening.  Every last one.  Meets are once a week.  Meets last 3 hours.  Molly participates in 3 events, each lasting about 17 seconds each.  That's a lot of sitting around trying to entertain a bored 6 year old.

I believe in giving my children opportunities.  I am glad Molly chose track and not, say, bowling because I personally find track more interesting.  The lacrosse teams and baseball teams often get their practices called off due to the rain.  Not track.  They run in the rain.  (Runners are tougher. No, it has nothing to do with condition of the fields).  A cancellation of practice is a windfall. Because that crazy schedule gets old.

And then I read posts by a high school friend who has a child with lots of health problems. And I watch the video she posted of a little girl who was 2 months premature, diagnosed with cerebral palsy, and looking remarkably similar to the way little blonde Molly used to.

The video was a compilation of the little girl's milestones: when she learned to sit up, crawl, walk with a walker, walk with crutches, stand unaided for a few seconds.  It was obvious that each joyous and hard-won victory was made possible by months of therapy and unbelievable dedication of parents, medical professionals, and the girl herself.  It was beautiful to witness such strength and determination to flourish.

Molly was 3 months premature.  The chances of her experiencing bleeding in her brain were much higher than the chances of her not experiencing it.  But she didn't.  It was very likely that we would hear a diagnosis of CP.  We didn't.  In fact, when her lungs were x-rayed during a bout of pneumonia as a toddler, they showed absolutely no signs of scar tissue.

There are many days and weeks that go by when I do not consciously think about the hours I sat anxiously by an isolette wondering what life (IF life) would hold for the baby inside. Becoming something of an expert in the odds of premature infants, I did not envision a child who would make honor roll every quarter, play the violin like an angel, and be able to run track.  All the time I spend running her around to activities of her choosing, I could be spending running around to therapists and doctors.

My NICU memories often seem to belong to a different lifetime. For the mom who made the video, that early fight for life is probably never very far out of her consciousness as she rejoices over every new progress her child makes.  She is grateful in the way I used to but now forget to be for every developmental hurdle cleared.

How superfluous to be irritated about things that other parents would give their right arm to experience. That crazy schedule Molly keeps is a privilege.

When I see Molly sprint tomorrow, I will not allow myself to think "If she just stopped looking over into the other lane, she'd shave three tenths of a second off!" I'll make myself focus on how she just ran.  All by herself.  Breathing all on her own.