A friend asked me one morning: is homemaking archaic, or does it have value? I answered yes and yes–that we’ve made it archaic by losing both the home and the making, but it does have value. This is part two; you can read part one here.
Most everyone is familiar with the concept of being in Limbo–that space where you hang suspended between one fate or another, unmoving, waiting or not even waiting, just existing.
If we’re alive, none of us are truly in that place that Dante described as the border of Hell, but being in-between a decision or waiting for a resolution can really be tormenting. Limbo is a place where no choices are made because there are no choices to make. There is hindsight, there is foresight, but there is nothing that can be done in the meantime. It’s a complete and utter lack of control. What’s been done is done, what must be done has yet to be done; all you can do is wait.
I had my own experience with this torment in February of this year. Near my eighth week of pregnancy, I called my doctor and asked to be checked out because of some bleeding I was having. She scheduled me an ultrasound for the next day.
I don’t remember being that worried. I was concerned because of the bleeding, or I wouldn’t have called in–but I wasn’t really sure what to expect, and I was believing for the best. In my heart of hearts, I was hoping for extremely good news: that the ultrasound would show multiples, and that would explain the spotting I was having. I didn’t allow much else to enter my mind. I was determined to assume the best possible outcome. I wasn’t sure I could cope with anything else.