Fragile

Snow day. The kids are home. They had their first fight at 7:30. I said my first curse word around that time. All my musings on the wonderful mother I want to be, and how hard I would like to try and have more patience, and enjoy them more, out the window. All good intentions. Just not gonna happen today.

Thankfully, David remembered I had an appointment at the Cardiologist on Monday. I thought it was later in the week. I went. I took a stress test. They told me that I am out of shape. I knew this. I had to go back yesterday, and have an ultrasound taken of my heart. Watching it on the screen was fascinating. There it was, all four chambers, pumping and moving. You could see the arteries working. Little flaps tirelessly opening and closing. It was almost as interesting to see as it was looking at my babies in my uterus. It all seems so fragile. Anything can go wrong, at any time. One small nut or bolt works it's way out, and the whole system fails. Like a tire, flying off a car in motion.

I had to be hooked up to a system of wires, and it will slowly record my heart for 24 hours. I have had it on since yesterday. I had to sleep with it on. A little uncomfortable. Funny enough, my heart didn't really have any palpitations. I will go back to the doctor, and he will read the tape, and tell me it looks normal. I don't want him to find anything, believe you me, but I feel like I have made a fuss for nothing. The boy who cried wolf. Even David was laughing at me. He thinks I over-react. Maybe I do.

When I was a teenager, I did so many stupid things. I put my life in jeopardy more times than I can say. Sometimes, I cringe just thinking about it. When I was in my twenties, again, not a care in the world. I would stumble home drunk at 4 a.m. and short cut through the park, in the quiet of NYC, and not think anything of it. No one would have ever heard me scream. The fact that I am here, astounds me at times.

Something changed in me, almost overnight. I fear everything. It began when I had my first baby. Now, driving on Route 80 is an experience that I dread for days. All I can think about is one false move from any of these speeding cars, and we are going to be smeared across three lanes of traffic. As I drive on quiet country roads, all it would take was some kid, looking down at his phone, texting his fellow dirt bag friend, and his car is smashing into mine, and I will have an engine in my lap.

I watched Molly sleep last night, through the tangle of wires that was hooked up to me, and thought, one nut. One bolt coming loose. It is all together so beautiful, but the sum of it's parts are all dependant on the most minute piece. One little block removed, and it all crashes down.

It is all too frighteningly fragile.