thoughts

We are lying in bed, wrapped around each other. We are tired, but neither of us are going to sleep.

E saw blood. How much and what color and all of that is at once important and immaterial. If she sees it again, something may be wrong with our baby, just an apple seed in her belly.

This is hard.

Not only the worry, but the not knowing what the hell to do. E does not have an OB yet, just a GYN, so there’s no one for us to call. (Long story, not mine to tell.) Our potential birthing center and its midwives don’t want anything to do with us until eight weeks.

I am not the boss of E or her body, but I am invested in this apple seed, so I say my piece. We should go to an urgent care center in the morning, or else we’re going to be worried forever. Let’s get an answer, even if there’s nothing in our power to change it.

She made the call – no urgent care, but she would get referred to an OB on Monday.

That’s a long time from now. Too long, for me.

Note: This post was embargoed until we reached 20 weeks; it was made public on 3/20/2013.

I know exactly three hockey players by name, and two of them are Flyers. The other, of course, is Wayne Gretzky, who famously said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

(Actually, maybe it was his dad who said it to him? In any event, I enjoy this version: “I learned that 100 percent of the shots you don’t take don’t go in the net.”)

This might be the first time the visage of a sports star has graced the front page of CK. Bask while you can, sports fans.

This is one of those maxims that is so crazy obvious that we tend to lose the meaning. Like, duh, if you don’t try it, it will never get done. All of the shirts I never folded will stay unfolded until I fold them.

Except, I think it deserves a little more nuanced than that. It’s not just about taking every possible shot – like, asking every girl out until one says yes. It’s about maximizing your shots … which, in that unfortunate example, means going somewhere where there are a lot more girls.

(Or, maybe asking some of the boys out, too.)

This makes me think about how I play video games. I am a super-defensive player. This can be traced back to my great love of playing Chun Li in Streetfighter through ceaseless hours of turtling in strategy games like and Warcraft. I like avoiding attacks as I chip away at a player’s defense until I am big and bold enough to crush them decisively.

I take plenty of shots, as long as I stay safe while I”m doing it.

It should not come as a shock that I am awesome at playing these games against the computer opponent (hello: only child), but I am not so great at playing against other human beings. The computer isn’t terribly innovative, so my long game tends to work fine in keeping my undefeated, even at the highest difficulty. But, introduce one PVP game of Starcraft into my mix and all of my careful planning goes out the window. I get shredded. Or Zerg rushed. Whatever.

I’m taking every shot I can in my normal play style, so I’m doing Mr. Gretzky proud… right?

No. My play style isn’t meant to maximize wins – it’s meant to minimize damage. It features way less shots. That would be fine if I was a member of a team, but when we’re on our own we’re all playing the same position as Gretzky – center. I can’t afford to just play goalie, praying for shut-out.

The only way to take more shots is to change my entire approach to the game.

Hockey and video games might not be my calling, but when it comes to songwriting, me and Mr. Gretzy see eye-to-eye. It write it ALL down. I take every shot, even if it’s just a single line I’m jotting down, because I’ve seen too many bad one-liners turn into amazing songs to ignore them anymore. I know every song counts, so I stopped being such a perfectionist about it.

I’m a perfectionist in many things, and perfectionists take way less shots. Maybe they never get blocked or intercepted or misunderstood or finish second. Maybe every song is a hit. But, if you write down only the hits, you’ll be missing so many melodies, until you’re not writing down anything at all.

I do not want a life full of empty nets and blank pages.

I am going to take more shots. Defense be damned.

I sprained my left ankle this summer.

(Have I really not mentioned that? It feels like all my life has been about for months. Remember when we could say these things on our blogs without fear that they would not be later hoovered up in a Google search of our lives as proof we have some kind of pre-existing condition?)

I don’t know how I sprained it. All I know is that I uncharacteristically spent the prior day walking around in flip flops. Clearly they ought to carry some sort of warning label.

Anyway.

After a miserable day of limping around my office I did all of the things you are supposed to do: ice, heat, keeping it wrapped, staying off it. I am a good patient, even when I’m not under a doctor’s care.

Except, it never got better. Not really. I kept limping around, hobbling up stairs. And, forget about anything active. The gym went by the wayside, and I had to turn down summer hikes and camping with friends.

My life began synonymous with my left ankle being in pain if I did anything other than sit still. I started doing a lot more sitting still. And, yes, I did eventually go to the doctor – who agreed that I was definitely in pain, but did not have much else to offer me.

I am very, very blessed with good physical health, and I’ve never had to endure any kind of pain for more than a week or two. And, honestly, this is a silly joke compared to the chronic pain many people – my friends! – endure every day of their lives. They, too, get a reminder with every step.

On Monday, in the midst of filling bathtubs and buckets during Hurricane Sandy, I realized my ankle hadn’t bothered me all day. Maybe it’s the anxiety, I surmised. But, I couldn’t help but smile about taking the stairs at my normal speed as I ferried my buckets around the house.

It felt fine on Tuesday, too. Yesterday I wore a pair of boots to work I haven’t worn in months. I smiled down at them all day.

Now, on day four of being pain free, I think it’s safe to say my ankle is all better. I kind of want to go on a celebratory jog. More than that, it means this is my first pain-free week in months. I didn’t realize the psychological effect of that. I’ve been hearing for weeks that I don’t seem like “my normal energetic self.”

I don’t know how people with chronic pain ever wear a smile, let alone act like their energetic selves, normal or not. I just had a bit of low grade ankle pain and I became a miserable shut-in.

I think I may do a lot of skipping today.