A better day

I'm having a really good day today. I consider this newsworthy, hence this blog post. Some of the terrible sadness and hopelessness I felt throughout this week has lifted and I am thankful for the respite. At the risk of providing way too much information, I got my period today and I almost immediately felt the tension I'd been holding for days lift. How about that, huh? I've been learning about the connections between hormones, moods and energy and motivation levels with my psychiatrist. Obviously, most of the distress I feel is related to grief, and to the fact that my baby died. She has a theory, however, that I manage that grief very differently at varying points throughout my cycle, and that this has also been true during times when she has treated me for depression. It's hard to make any firm conclusions, as grief itself is cyclical and unpredictable, but I suppose it would be handy to notice a pattern so that I might be able to better plan for the times when it becomes too tough to be in the world. There's so much about our bodies we don't understand. So many complex interplays between biology, experience, and temperament.

I'm reading a very interesting book at the moment on something a bit related. It's called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain. The book explores how the traits of sensitivity and seriousness have come to be considered undesirable in the modern age. Cain explains how we've come to live in an age where extroversion has become the cultural ideal, and she explores the profound consequences that this 'culture of personality' has had on what we all deem valuable and desirable. She looks at the introvert/extrovert divide from a range of really interesting perspectives, for example, showing how the brain chemistry of introverts and extroverts differs. Probably the only people who'll be interested in this book are fellow introverts, but hey, I know more than my fair share of those, so perhaps this recommendation will go far and wide! I'm planning on writing a more detailed review of the book when I've finished reading it. I'm fascinated by my own psychology. I'm not sure what this says about me (analysis forthcoming!) but I love reflecting on this kind of stuff, and thinking about who I am, and I guess, why I am.

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I planted more plants today. I'm obsessed with all the living things. Maybe because they respond to my tender care with ever flourishing signs of unmistakeable activity. Perhaps because plants live and grow in the way that Max should have, but will not. Or is it that I need a constant reminder that the season will change again; that from out of the midst of my sorrow, even in the unlikeliest time and place, some entirely other way of being can, and just might bloom? Whatever reason, I've become a frequent shopper at the nursery, where I wander around for an hour at a time looking, I'm sure, like some sad, lost lady, who doesn't know what to do with herself. Max is everywhere for me, all of the time, and I suppose plants allow me to leave memories or mentions of him everywhere, too, so that reality matches up with my inner experience. The things I grow for Max mark his place; they map out some territory for him. They are, in short, something I can give to him and for him.

I planted some seeds of a flower called Heartsease, which is a sentiment I hope will grow as they do. It is a flower that is said to help heal a broken heart. I've just found out that it is also called the 'love-in-idleness', which is the same flower whose juice, when administered by Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, makes Titania fall in love with the first creature she sees upon awakening, which turns out to a craftsman in the forest who has a head like a donkey! Obviously very powerful stuff! I'm not feeling super confident about this one as I've never planted anything straight from seeds before, but I followed the instructions and sowed them 5mm deep and placed them in a spot where they'll be protected from the hot afternoon sun. Apparently I can expect to see seedlings within 14-21 days from now, so set your watches, people. Let the Heartsease fairy come to me. Let it come to us all.

I have this wonderful idea that from the special plants I grow for Max - that represent longing, and remembrance, and healing - I can eventually take cuttings, which I could give to people for their own gardens, so that those sentiments flourish everywhere, for everyone who has lost a baby. Isn't that a lovely idea? It's something I would really like to do in the future.

I also planted something special for Kitty. He now has some cat mint seedlings germinating in the front garden. He took a keen interest in the planting (as he does in everything) and I think he'll be beside himself when he discovers that sniffing the plants makes him feel all happy and funny. Kitty certainly does not need any more madness than he has already been genetically blessed with, but you know, we all need a little something occasionally to get by. Interestingly, I've tried to grow cat mint for Peppy before but he has never shown an interest in it. Always the sensible boy, my Peppy. He is such a responsible big brother.

Simon's Cat (our favourite cartoon series) aptly pictures
how Kitty might look when his new flower is in full bloom!

While I was out there, and because it is a glorious Spring-like day, I also took the plunge and pruned Max's rose. I had done a significant amount of YouTube research, and I think I had the technique sorted out, but it still felt so counter-intuitive to hack away at a beautiful, growing plant. I guess we shall see in the Spring if it recovers from my bout of Edward Scissorhands-ing. . . stay tuned for that!

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A happy day. A productive day. A hopeful day. But still my baby never far from my mind. I love you, Max. You are in everything I do. You are in everything I am.