My heart races faster with each breath and tiny beads of sweat drip from the pores of my body. I pull the covers off and lay in bed cold, waiting for the dry Colorado air to do it’s job. My blood pressure was through the roof at the dentist the other day. I can feel my pulse pounding. I know what is happening.
We’re moving again. That makes 5 moves in 6 years.
I try to catch my breath.
I try to blame these feelings on my weight. I must be gaining weight. I must be fat. But, having a baby has changed all of that. Although I am afraid to admit it, I think I actually like my body now. I am baffled by what it is capable of doing. Of what it has done–I have the most beautiful baby girl as evidence. Besides, I weigh what I weighed before I was pregnant and I care so much less about it. So, try as I might, I cannot blame this wave of anxiety on my body.
We’re moving to Saguaro cacti and chlorine pools. 110 degree heat and picture-perfect sunsets. Scorpions and creosote-smelling rain. And I love all of it.
My blood pressure rises.
I recall familiar people and places, and where we’re going it seems endless. I will not be anonymous. Who I was when I left 10 years ago is drastically different. I’ve lost all my identities (college athlete, army wife, track coach, athletic director) and gained a new one (mother) and I suppose I haven’t finished mourning the loss of all those identities despite gaining the most magnificent one.
What will everyone else think? Because, I still care even though I very much wish I didn’t.