I saw all three of the doctors who treated me over the course of my pregnancy and miscarriage today when I went in for my follow-up appointment. The return of my cycle was most pleasing to them, a sign of things getting back to normal. My blood pressure was unusually high, but I’m told not to worry, that I’ve been through a lot recently, that I should just try to take it easy.

Back to normal? Take it easy? Come again?

In all honesty, the last couple of days have been some of the hardest. I’m sure hormones have something to with this, but the fact remains that I find myself in a bit of a slump. I’m still moving, even if maybe a little bit slower, but as those pesky time-sensitive decisions are looming, I’m ever so slightly paralyzed by uncertainty. And fear.

One day at a time, some are better than others.

I woke up this morning with crimson between my legs, exactly one month after walking out of the hospital against medical advice.

It’s not that I’m not happy to see my moonblood, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. A vivid reminder of how very un-pregnant I am – which is still rather sad – it is also a reminder of how I could become pregnant again, a most terrifying prospect.

Fifty percent of my pregnancies have had intense and severe complications. Once something in which I was most confident of my strength and ability, pregnancy and labor have become two of my biggest fears.

I am so confused by this body of mine.

Emet and Jade both had what I like to call a healthy fear of the water, a respect for it’s power mixed with an acceptance of their personal abilities.

Roux is not equipped with this at all.

He is pretty much convinced that he can swim, actually swim, and today, after more than a month away from our community pool, he showed us the depth of his conviction. He completely submerges himself and there is just no stopping him. He spent a good thirty minutes being passed back and forth between his father and me, kicking and kind of stroking his arms with his entire face and body beneath the surface. He’s never had a swim lesson, mind you. And he’s not yet two and a half!

I’ve never had an early swimmer before, and it makes me a little nervous. I want to encourage his confidence while also helping him to have an awareness of his limits, for him to understand that he’s almost swimming, but not quite. He’s always had a special relationship with water, he’d walk straight into the ocean if I’d let him, and I want to foster this fundamental aspect of his being. I will always empower him to reach, to strive, to grow, but I do want to keep him safe.

For now, I simply cannot take my eyes off him for a single split second.

To be fair, he was due under the sign of the fish and was born under the sign of the water bearer. It is part of his soul.

It’s been at least a week since I have risen well before anyone else in my house, there is just something about the stillness of everyone still sleeping that makes these early morning moments extra special.

Last night, my firstborn and I traveled to Temecula to attend the wedding of his former class teacher. A lovely ceremony overlooking a vineyard, a great group of guests, and a super fun dance party, it was a night we’ll remember for a long time.

He turned thirteen this summer, the day I came home from the hospital. I can no longer see the top of his head. I always knew he would be taller than me, I just never knew how proud I would feel to be shorter than my son! He’s grown into such a fine young man, and he’s so very good to his mama.

When we lost the baby, I was taken aback by the maturity he displayed in those first few confusing, frightening days. He assumed responsibility for his baby brother while I was having surgery, receiving startling text message updates as to my status. There’s been a complication, you’re mother is in intensive care, we’re going to be here longer than we expected. An unexpected rite of passage which he navigated with extreme grace and resilience.

I still owe him a birthday party. After last night, all I can think about is how to transform our house into a discotech. We’ll invite all his friends, turn up the music and turn down the lights, and celebrate belatedly another solar return for my very first baby.

The calendar tells me a whole month has gone by. July 5th to August 5th, just like that. I can’t tell if the time seems to have passed quickly or slowly, only that everything is entirely different than it was just 31 days ago.

So many walks, so many quiet early mornings alone with my thoughts while the rest of my home slumbers soundly, so much sorting and organizing and intensely deep cleaning, so very many tears. It’s continues to be a rather difficult thing to wrap my head around, being pregnant and then not pregnant. I will feel this loss for the rest of my life.

All this moving about has been good for me, flooding my brain with endorphins. Independently of one another, both of my older children have told me that I’m in a much better mood than I was when I was pregnant, better even than before I was pregnant, which is probably very true.

I’ve had a hard time these last couple of years, recovering from Roux’s traumatic delivery has not been easy. If I’m being honest, though, I didn’t really try. I foolishly thought I would just get better with time, but time kept right on ticking and better still I was not. It is only now, after facing the death of our unborn baby, that I am beginning to feel the levity that has been missing for far too long.

It seems a strange contradiction, moving through the greatest loss I’ve yet to experience only to find myself in a better place than I’ve been in quite some time. However, the truth of it is that I have been absolutely determined to not allow this tragedy to overtake me and in doing so have managed to pierce through whatever it is that has been shrouding my joy.

There is plenty of healing left yet, but I’m well on my way.

Thank goodness.

Today I will address directly the first in a series of pressing time-sensitive questions which our family is currently facing. But first the littlest one and I are off to spend the morning with our friend and her family at their urban farm.

The days are starting to melt together the way they often do in the the heat of the summer. There really aren’t that many weeks left until Labor Day, time is passing by rocket fast. Regardless of our plans for next school year, September will bring about a shift in our rhythm and I for one am in no hurry for Autumn to arrive.

Come to think of it, I’m never in a hurry for Autumn to arrive.

Roux was awake practically all night long, tossing, turning, calling to me from his bed, unable to keep still even wedged between his father and me. This morning I realized the new moon is upon us, and the restlessness made sense.

He has always been terribly sensitive to lunar energy, just like his mama. This new moon in Leo is especially powerful by way of creative energy and strength in the face of adversity, qualities I in particular am working to cultivate within myself. Leo gives us permission to be freely and unapologetically authentic, to harness the fire and forge ahead with confidence and courage.

I am in the midst of my own personal revolution, there is no doubt. Of what I’m less certain is where this journey will lead, in either the immediate or distant future. What’s surprising is that I’m pretty at ease with the uncertainty of it all. I can’t help but think the pregnancy was diverted on account of something else needing to happen instead, so with deep trust in the universe I’m available to whatever emerges during this next lunar cycle.

May the blessings be.

For maybe the first time ever in my life, I’m a little bit relieved to be done with July. I’m more than ready to greet a new month, a new week, and what feels kind of a like a new season.

Our summer vacation had hardly started when we lost our littlest love; it will be a full month this Friday that we’ve been grieving. Grief is not a stagnant thing, it is dynamic, evolving, undulating, unexpected, everlasting. I’m moving through it as best I can, I don’t think I’ve ever tried so hard to take care of myself and my family, which has helped me to heal immensely.

I know that I will carry this loss closely, undeniably a defining life experience, but I also know that I am able to alchemize the pain into productivity. I’m ready to see where this path leads.