Today was the Postpartum Education & Support, Inc. StrollerThon, raising money for awareness & celebrating victories. Last year, my doctor wrapped her arms around me & I choked with love for my little boy & my life.
This year, I met my friends in the brisk fall air with excitement & happiness. We laughed & sipped coffee while we waited for the walk to begin, while very sweet husbands pumped stroller tires for those of us that oops! had flats. (okay, I was the only one)
Amy & I set out with our matching Bumbleride strollers, chatting about selling homes & the exhaustion of motherhood. I’ve known Amy for almost ten years now, back when boys & booze were our topics. Funny how things change.
Harry & Charlotte were antsy after the walk, so we unleashed them on the playground.
(side note: a girl looked over & said, “Are you Beth Anne?” & then she said my maiden name & I almost fell over, but she was a girl I knew in middle school. That’s over 15 years ago & there we were, standing on a playground with our kids. It’s nuts living in your hometown, even if your hometown is one of the biggest cities in the state.)
& then…Harrison was done.
When the kid is done, he is done.
So I took him home, tucked him in bed for a nap & began editing pictures. It had been a fantastic morning of friendship & motherhood & happiness. I looked to my right at the bottom desk drawer & the notebooks it held. Notebooks from last year, journals from the beginnings & the lows & the hospital. Without a hesitation of doubt, I gathered them up & walked them to the trash cans outside. I do not want those words anymore, or those feelings. Those notebooks, full of angry words & sketches made when I was hurting — I feel no urge to keep them.
I want to be like Harrison & be done.
& simply be thankful for the journey they gave me.