My Garden

One of the last things I remember doing when Clara was still alive was gardening. It was the week before the May long weekend and the weather was perfect. Scott did all the heavy lifting of the soil and the pots. I just had to sit down and shovel. I worked on the potters first and then moved on to the veggies and herbs. I was tired and reserved the flower garden until the following Tuesday. The last Tuesday were I heard her heart beating at the OB's office. So unaware, so oblivious, so naive. Those are the days I that will never have back as long as I live.

I was looking at my garden this morning and reflecting. Since Clara died, I haven't been the most enthusiastic about the care of my garden and yet everything still grows. A little water and some fertilizer every few weeks. My oleander is in bloom, my tomatoes are growing and my herbs look like weeds. So little care, yet everything continues to grow. While Clara was growing inside of me, every action was with her best interest in mind (although I did give in to some of my salty cravings). The food I ate and the activities I did was to ensure she would grow into a healthy baby. Scott would always encourage me to eat more broccoli, it was nice to know he had her health in mind too. Every night before going to bed, I would tell Scott that I needed a glass of milk, "for the baby". For six months, all our thoughts and efforts were focused on the baby. Yet unlike my garden, she no longer grows.