Sometimes the flight from Washington to Long Beach is 5 hours and sometimes it is 5 1/2. Today was a solid 5 1/2 and stared early. Despite the anxiety-laden lead up to the flight, there were bits of grace all around: an empty seat next to me on a packed flight, lorna dune cookies, Silas's playing happily the entire time even without napping (though I may have nodded off a few times), my not throwing up, finally arriving on solid ground to an overcast, salty day.
I seem to be resurfacing, very slowly, in the land of the living. The baby I'm growing is apparently now the length of a fig and has been wreaking some serious havoc. Th0ugh queasiness still hit like clockwork this afternoon and I'm still eating Trader Joe's pizza as my primary food group, I felt hunger for the first time in weeks, I didn't cry or fall into a dark pit of despair once today and I muscled through a whole flight.
It is now about half an hour later and I should say that I ALMOST made it through the entire day without melting into an emotional puddle. Almost. I guess we are taking eensy-steps ...
I am hoping there really will be some kind of magic on the 12 week marker (which is also the first day of Hanukkah. Maybe I will celebrate with gratitude, a candle and my limited Hebrew - c/o Greenberg Shabbat dinners).