Feeling: normal
Listening to: Fiona Apple - Better Version of Me
Reading/Watching: nothing, just thesis

Today I'm just believing in things. I'm believing in life.

I have to make one final push to finish my thesis, so I have bags of Earl Grey and a half-cup of chocolate-covered espresso beans in place for an all-nighter, and I am going to comb through all 34 pages until it is streamlined and perfect.

But I'm not scared. I'm not worried. I have a sense that things will work out the way they're meant to. If I get a C on this project, it's probably deserved- I procrastinated like hell. But I am going to finish it, because I've invested far too much time in it over the past two years (good God, it's been two years this thing has been in progress), and once it's done, it will be done. And I will be free, with nothing else to worry about but a take-home essay test in Anthropology, and the overhanging question of What Now.

The reason for this sense of well-being is that my cousin and her husband just had their babies. My cousin (who Kelree calls "Jake", so I will too) shares the unfortunate trend of wonky female genes that runs on my mother's side of the family. I believe she had her share of ovarian cysts, etc, before she was married over two years ago. Since then, she and her husband have been trying to get pregnant. They used a scad of uncomfortable and inconvenient fertility medications, and finally went the route of in-vitro fertilization, which is so damn expensive that it was most likely their only shot at having children.

And she got pregnant. With twins. This was followed by eight months of walking on eggshells, because Jake is so frail that the doctors were worried that she would deliver the babies far too early. Finally, they made it past eight months, scheduled a C-section, and delivered two beautiful, healthy babies, neither of which needed any time in the NICU. The couple who might never have conceived now has a lovely girl named Lilah Rose, and a lovely boy named Ryan Benjamin. It's amazing. Science is amazing.

The other part of my renewed hope and belief in life is the fact that, despite wonky female genes, despite pain and surgery and irrational fear that I might malfunction forever, it is one month and one day after the surgery and I'm finally back to normal. I stood up for a full forty-five minutes yesterday, and also had a visit from fickle Aunty Flo.

(Yes, this does mean I'm suffering through girly-time. I never thought I'd be so grateful and relieved to have something as simple and annoying as a period, but I am.)

Everything else seems simple and small compared to that. No matter what, time just keeps passing, and today, I'm back to normal. I'm recovered. I'm whole. It's a really good feeling.

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