Mantra

I don't know how to pray. I've been trying for months and I am not very good at it. I try and think my prayers through in my head, but ultimately become distracted. I have tried mumbling them to chest to no avail. I have tried going through them while walking, but I end up coming up with blog posts or Facebook statuses instead. You know it's bad when you start praying in Facebook statuses...

I have this belief that prayer shouldn't come from just spoken words, that it should be an all-encompassing cataclysmic event. Your whole body should vibrate with your requests and hopes and dreams and shoot them out into the universe. Yoga and running long distances can often drum up that sort of response with me, but it doesn't happen very often.

On my run yesterday I tried to think my way through my prayers. As usual, I was falling short and getting distracted. I wasn't going very far or very fast so my body wasn't helping the situation. I decided the best way to get my point across was by simplifying the whole process. Rather than thinking out long, drawn out thoughts, I boiled it down to one word: remission. I chugged my way up Queen Elizabeth Park, each syllable punctuated with every step: ree-mish-shun. All the way over to Shaugnessy, I kept it in my head: ree-mish-shun, ree-mish-shun. By the time I came down Angus and back towards the hospital, I was flying faster and faster: REE-mish-shun, REE-mish-shun, REE-mish-shun. My hip flexors were aching and my lungs were burning. I am very out of shape, but the dream of that one word was enough to keep my feet moving and my legs churning. It drives everything I do. I want it so badly for her.

She's turning out to be such a lovely child - so long as Kris or I (preferably both) are in her sight line. She's chatting away and playing games and full of chuckles. She definitely still has a hearty, masculine laugh from all the testosterone she was exposed to - no girly tee-hees around here! It's really fun to see her grow. I have taken to climbing into her crib with her and snuggling. I close the blinds so the nurses won't think I am nuts... though it's probably too late for that... But it's hard to get our cuddle time in, especially now that she has stopped nursing, and she has been hooked up to a mega-IV pole for the past two weeks and is virtually bedridden as a result and I miss my baby. So I climb into her bed. As I was laying next to her last night, I couldn't get over how old she looks. Her eyes are those of a toddler. It's crazy how much they change. She's still very much a baby, but I can see what she is going to look like in a year's time. She's growing up.

We are waiting for her blood counts to come back up before a short home-visit and then on to the next round. She's taking a little bit longer this round, so we are just taking everything day by day. It's been a very good week.