Waiting

I love this time of year.

Many people find it hard to love, with its mud and mess, with their impatience to be done with winter already, and what's taking so long?? But other than June, with its maximum daylight and near-maximum heat, I like late winter / very early spring the best.

A friend and I just talked about spring. How, as lovely as it is, it can be a bit overwhelming. We're both introverts who like to take transitions slowly when we can. In the springtime, there's this sudden explosion of flowers and people outside swarming the parks. "Sometimes I want to tell springtime to just calm down a little," she laughed, and I laughed back, surprised and delighted that someone else feels this same way.

For me, a big part of the issue is that the fertility of spring sometimes makes me feel more barren in contrast. There are babies in strollers. Lambs with their mothers out in the fields. Ducklings on ponds. There's no escape from it all.

But February and March ... that's where I fit right now, in that resting space between seasons.

Even though we've had two more snowstorms during this cycle, they didn't interfere with my drives to the clinic, luckily. I can feel the sun gaining strength, this long and grinding winter releasing its hold so that something new can take its place.

Resting and waiting. Holding my breath. That's where I am now, and all of nature seems to be waiting with me.

What's ahead?

In TTC news, the egg did fertilize. A nurse from the clinic called the morning after retrieval, and from this point through Day 5, no news is good news. Each day the phone doesn't ring by 5 PM, I sigh with relief. Today, Day 3, I'm hoping that the embryo is 6 or 8 cells and growing, healthy and strong.