A flood of intuition

Here's where I get a little woo-woo...

Hi Readers,

Above is a photo of my mother and I on the day I discovered I was pregnant.

This post is a bit vulnerable because I worry you’ll think I’m nuts, but I wanted to share this strange intuition I gained after my hospital journey… and a little bit about where I came from.

For those new here, I started writing this when I was on dialysis. It’s intended to be both memoir and a practical tool to help folks who might be going through something similar or those caregivers and family supporting someone with a challenging diagnosis. I hope to include excerpts here as I write. NOTE: This is not intended to replace actual medical guidance. Please consult your doctors on your individual challenges and situations. Also names have been changed for most of my medical staff.

Chapter 18 - Tuesday, March 15 - Day 15

I lay on the cushioned table as my lovely acupuncturist feels my pulse. I always wonder what she’s thinking. Dr. Carol seems to have a sort of wisdom that feels like the trench in the ocean: deep, vast, and a mystery. Zach and I both started seeing her before my pregnancy and just a couple months later, July began her journey into being. 

She’s our friendly neighborhood good-witch. When July was sideways in the womb, Dr. Carol gave me a stick of moxa and burned it near my toe and the baby moved within hours helping me avoid a painful turning procedure. 

“Let me see your tongue.”

I stick out my tongue, deeply insecure of my breath post-breakfast.

She looks at it.

“Okay, I know this is going to sound strange, but think of the color dark blue,” she says as she starts to put tiny needles into my legs. “Dark blue is the color for the kidneys.”

I jolt in reaction.

“It hurts more than usual” I cringe. 

“Your body is very tense. It’s your nervous system. It’s trying to protect itself. Don’t drink coffee before you come. It’ll help.”

I close my eyes and think about the dark blue as she finishes the tiny zaps of the needle. Normally nebulous, today each needling rings. I imagine I’m swimming up above the surface of the water. I arch my back and float above the depths. The saltwater makes floating easy. In my mind’s eye, I look down on myself from above, surrounded by endless dark blue.

I feel the imagined-sun on my face and try not to be sad that this fantasy can’t happen in real life while I have a chest port. 

Before my wedding, I did one of those sensory deprivation tanks where I floated in the dark in a small tub and my brain became very loud with dreams. I remember a marching band with grisly faces trodding through my experience and I woke up totally flipped around in the tub. I was shockingly lost in a dark six foot tub until the experience was over and the lights came back on. 

Sometimes relaxing is hard.

My mind runs through the to-do list. All the paperwork… or searching for computer logins and signing up for things and researching.

“Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.”

I lay there and meditated for about forty five minutes, floating in my mind. 

A year prior, I laid on the same table and wondered if I would ever get pregnant. We had been trying for a period of time and when you’re a “certain age” the world plants seeds of doubt in your mind. I was older by new mother standards, but I certainly didn’t feel old. I’d always been quite healthy. I had every confidence in my body’s ability to make a baby. I suppose I was naive about life’s way of throwing us curve balls.