transition

When birth workers hear the word "transition," our minds immediately go to the final moments of labor's first stage.  During transition, the cervix is dilating its final two centimeters.  Contractions are longer, stronger, and closer together.  A woman experiencing unmedicated labor will likely ask for an epidural during this time (though she'll be complete and not want one anymore by the time the anesthesiologist gets there).  She will usually say something like "I can't do this anymore."  The doula's role here is to tell her that these are all good signs, that labor is progressing and she'll be done very soon.

This stage of labor is aptly named.  Transitions are indeed difficult.

For the past few months I've been living in a house with all of C's things just waiting around.  I've had to put certain things on hold while I wait for the time when he finally returned to town and moved his stuff to his new apartment.  That time has been this week.

I've been saying for several months that my life is interrupted when C comes into town.  There's considerations we have to make, conversations we have to have, etc.  The groove I've spent months creating for myself has to take a backseat for visitation and heavy conversation.  Not that I mind, it's worth it if it means we can get through this process in a compassionate and (relatively) simple manner.

Then the stuff started disappearing.  The binary of stay still/keep moving that has defined my life over the past couple of months has gone from a basic reality to a constant juggle.  Moving between the extremes - figuring things out with Charlie and living the independent life I've created for myself - has worn down my seams.  I need tons of extra support, extra self-care, and hell, probably extra stillness as well. 

I knew the process would be difficult in many ways.  The move was anticipated, it's necessary, and it's wanted by the both of us.  Doesn't make it any easier to realize that every sound in the house echoes into the spare room that's now mostly empty.  Moving forward, at long last, is cathartic.  It is, at the same time, terribly wonderful, sad, liberating, upsetting, and joyous.