I distinctly remember the first moment I felt someone's hand pull me from the fog. It was during bath time. One of my favourite moments regardless ... there is just something completely unbearably adorable about a naked babes in the tub, looking at you with bright eyes, eyelashes stuck together in tiny perfect triangles from the water... I left the cloth beside the tub. Forgot the bathing demonstration they gave me at the hospital and instead of using the cloth to professionally apply the shampoo to her tiny little head - I used my hands ... I felt her perfectly round head in my hands, watched her eyes gaze up at me. Suddenly, I swear for the first time in so many months, I was 100% in the moment. It felt so freaking good.
The depression was causing me to not only mourn the past but also obsessively hope for a better future ... like, remember when I'd rush home after a long work day and text Danny "...date night tonight?" ... eagerly waiting his response ... "yes! movie? dinner?" ... and then we'd freely get home, get dressed, and do whatever the hell we felt like ... or when I'd dream about her being old enough to not need me as much as she does now. While my mind travelled in and out of these recollections and dreams I was missing what was in front of my face. What was happening right then and there.
For the first time in so long, in TOO long, I felt this feeling in my tummy and then in my heart. It was a feeling I had almost forgotten. Joy. Yes, I'm sure it was. Plain as day, wonderful, impossible to ignore, joy. It was the first bath time that I felt blessed to have this little beautiful babes to hold, to help, to provide such a basic and simple life skill to. The first bath time I actually looked into her eyes. I had looked AT her eyes many times in the past months ... but had I actually looked INTO them? I don't think I had. Because when I did - this time - my heart skipped a beat.
It was just a tiny moment ... amongst all of the moments that make up a day ... but it was so very significant. This moment did not lead to complete clarity. The struggle was still there - but it was a tiny, minuscule step. And for this I felt hope. It was a ladder to more moments like it. Where I was beginning to realize - yes - life had changed - but I was becoming more accustomed to this change. And this change was starting to make me feel differently than I had before. Instead of feeling bitter, sad, and as though I had lost something, I was beginning to fall in love with it. To feel like it fit. To feel like it wasn't "hard to accept" change anymore, but instead just wonderful, incredible, LIFE.