Slippery and wet?
No, really. We are actively working on the making of the babies this month (and may have been successful, but it is too early to confirm it), and I find myself a little in shock about the whole thing. Yes, we absolutely want children, and yes, we have planned for this, have spent 15 months getting ready, getting married, working on health issues, financial issues, etc. Emotionally, we want kids and the timing is right.
And yet, the morning of Ovulation! we hesitated for a few minutes to process what we were about to embark upon. We had refreshed the altar, lit a candle from the wedding, lit the good Tibetan incense, said a few prayers, cried a few overwrought tears. It felt to me like that moment at the waterpark where you have waited for an hour to get to the front of the line for the Really Big Slide, the one with all the dozens of do's and don't's of where to put your arms and legs and eyelids, I mean down to a warning about not crossing your toes for gosh sake, and as you waited you just kept thinking about how it looks from the bottom landing pool, so curly, so up in the air, the people whizzing out of the chutes like small human missiles making impossibly big splashes, and you longed, you yearned to go racing down the slide so much you were willing to wait in that stupidly long line, but now you are at the top, the little traffic signal to tell you you can sit down and get ready is blinking, and yet, you hesitate. Do I really want to do this? This looks scary, the people down below are the size of ants, that's a lot of freefall, that's a lot of trust, my stomach is going to make a knot in my throat, and you know, I've never really been a big fan of that sensation, what if I just turned around and climbed back down these stairs I have spent an hour inching up, it'll be hard to get past that fat couple, it's narrow there, but I'm sure we'll figure out a way. Or maybe they will let me step to the side, I could let these nice people behind me go down first, just a little pause until I get my nerve up. But then the attendant looks at you, and you stop feeling afraid and just go sit down and wait for the green light to go, you stop thinking all together and do the little actions that will have the big consequences because you know that you wanted this, you chose this, you wanted it with all your heart when you were down at the bottom watching other people shoot out the chutes, and then suddenly, that light, that traffic signal light right there in front of you, turns green.
That is why babies are like waterslides. It only takes a few little actions, nothing too dramatic or difficult, just sitting down at the top of the slide when it comes to be your turn, and letting go of control when the time is right, and then wham! you are moving along a closed track, sluicing along in accord with gravity and hydrophysics until a body shoots out the bottom of the chute. It is only natural to have a second thought or two, a moment of cold feet, of check in, of Am-I-Really-Sure and Am-I-Really-Allowed-To-Make-This-Decision,-It-Is-So-Much-Bigger-Than-Me, but when the light turns green and the way forward is clear, it is suddenly so easy to just let go of the handle and slide.