What Next

I must admit that I am afraid of what comes next. It is like standing on the edge of the high-dive platform, knowing that you cannot return to the ladder that will take you back to the level ground you once relied on. The next phase requires you to ease your foot towards the unsteady end of the long traverse, to bend your body towards the depths below and to lean forward into your free-fall. It takes courage and courage is something I am lacking right now.

For me, the next phase of my life is returning to work, to re-building my life and to balance my son's wellbeing in the process.

I looked into schools for Evan in Atlanta. Nursery's that take infants starting at 6 weeks. 4 children per caregiver, days spent away from Mommy, moments missed that cannot be recaptured. Caregivers witnessing the changes daily and giving reports to parents on the milestones achieved. It breaks my heart to think this is waiting on that edge, and that I must inch towards it. I hate the feeling, but I have no choice.

I don't want to live alone in Atlanta, I don't want to be an island for the sake of a living but I am not sure how to do that anywhere but Atlanta based on the type of work I do. I have looked at the classified ads for other locations, but nothing there fits me - there is very little to go on. I am used to a certain standard of living and I am trying to adjust my thinking to other ways of making it; of thriving.

Greg and I are on very different terms now. I still look at him as a partner, but I quickly correct my thinking back to midline. We are parents, we have a common bond in Evan, but not as a couple. I miss him in that way. I miss him wanting me - but I would never tell him that. Sometimes at night when we are lying side by side our feet touch for a moment and I awaken and remember when we would lie close together; he had to touch my hip, my arm - we connected that way. Now we connect through respect and a careful distance. He sees me only as Evan's mother. I miss being desired as more than just that symbol. I hate to watch my emotion fading out of necessity. I still love him. He is the father of my son and the man I dreamed of having a life with. I will know him for the rest of my life so I keep silent, I say nothing, I just show him the love I have for him in other ways. We are so different, yet in many ways alike.

So as I sit here in his home this morning, waiting on Evan to stir from his morning nap, I am thinking "What Next" and the only conclusion I come to is to embrace the next moment, the one where Evan awakes and yawns - and smiles at the sight of his Mommy at his crib - arms outstretched to gather him up, to feel his body curl into mine and to watch his blue eyes twinkle. In that moment all other thoughts fade away into the back of my mind to be processed later and I move my mind back away from the edge for another day.