Saturday, October 20, 2012

One Foot in Front of the Other

This week was first anniversary of the birth of our twins, Alex and Ed. Nothing happy about this birthday, though--they were born 3 months early, and were too tiny and fragile to survive more than a few days. Coincidentally, the hospital's annual perinatal loss memorial was scheduled right on our babies' birthday this year. We decided to attend. And, we decided to walk there.

It's about eleven miles from our house in Portland to the hospital in Beaverton. We were lucky enough to have a beautiful sunny autumn day for the trip. Roughly every hour or so, we'd pause--for a coffee or a restroom, while we were in town; or when we got up into the hills above the city, we'd consult our maps of the hiking trails, or admire the view, or crack into the thermos of tea. These pauses were good chances to sketch snippets of the hike.

Walking can be very good for the brain. It gets me out of my head and reminds me that the world is a whole lot bigger than my own troubles. It takes work, but it doesn't take a lot of higher-level decision making. And it fills up the time--oh what a terrible combination it is, feeling sad while having time on your hands--it fills up that time with autumn leaves and wooly caterpillars and muddy lawns and rose gardens and chicken coops and mailboxes and radio towers and all the other random meaningless but meaningful things you run across while putting one foot in front of the other.

Big thanks to everyone--friends, family, doctors, nurses, neighbors, friendly bus drivers, random retired rodeo cowboys--whose kindness has helped us get through this very rough year.

6 comments:

  1. Our love and thoughts are with you both during this difficult time. Btw... beautiful autumn sketches.... so much beauty and so much pain in this world, it's difficult to comprend--actually, it's seemingly impossible to make any sense out of any of it.

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    1. Thank you, my sweet friend. And yes, I agree about how hard it is to make any sense out of this mixed-up jumble of a world. Big hugs to you.

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  2. Katura, I had no idea. My heart is with you both.

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    1. Thank you so much, Vicky. And thanks to you & the rest of the urban sketching crew for all the wonderful opportunities to get out and explore the city in good company. Like I say, it's good to get out of the well-worn ruts in one's own brain.

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  3. Katura, we don't know each other at all, but someone linked your sketchbook blog and I have been looking at it. I keep a few sketchbooks and try to keep my skills sharp with them, and it's fun to see what others do with theirs.

    Ten years ago right about this time we found out that we were expecting twins. About a month later we found out that my partner's cervix was thinning out quite a bit, and there was a tense few months there where it wasn't certain that our kids were going to stay in long enough to survive outside.

    Well, we were lucky, and our girls were born at about 38 weeks and are now 9 1/2 years old, but I am very aware that it could have just as easily turned out much differently. Your story here and the candor with which you told it has brought back those memories and I wish peace for you and yours through what I am sure is a difficult time.

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    1. Hi Adam. Thanks so much for your note. We live in such a high-tech, medically advanced age nowadays...that it really can come as a big surprise when things like this go so terribly wrong, you know? So it's comforting to know that we aren't the only ones to deal with these kids of difficult pregnancies--like, real people, not just statistics in a book. And it's also comforting to know that your little girls are growing up strong and healthy. Sometimes we *do* get happy endings.

      So yes. Thanks for your note. And yay for the unexpected (and profound) connections that happen via sketching.

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