This morning I woke up early, as I normally do. But today was a little different. I ventured outside, put the cushions on the patio chairs, brewed a strong cup of coffee, and sat with my laptop open, listening to the birds chirping and the faint static coming from Evelyn’s baby monitor. Soon, Michael joined me, his own cup of coffee in hand, and we joked a little bit about the idea of actually enjoying the fresh air and the vast expanse of sky above us. Why don’t we do this more often?
Then, after a few How was your sleep? exchanges, we found ourselves silently immersed in our hand-held devices. Before too long, Michael noticed and commented about the fact that we’d been completely ignoring one another in favor of an internet connection.
I thought about beating myself up over it for a few seconds. I’ve written about my unhealthy relationship with my hand-helds before and it’s something I’ve been striving to bring into balance, especially when Evelyn is with me. But then I stopped myself. I hadn’t been frivolously facebooking. I was reading. Researching, in fact. I’ve been thinking about writing some posts about my experience with infertility and wanted to read some posts that others had written, to see what’s already out there and possibly find some inspiration. Michael was playing chess with some guy in France.
Now, if I had been holding a book in my hands and had papers strewn about, scribbling down notes, and Michael had been sitting at the opposite end of the table, playing chess on an actual board against an international opponent, oh how intellectual and cosmopolitan we would be! But we were just staring blankly at our screens right?
I thought about beating myself up. But then I stopped. We might not have been interacting with one another, but we were enjoying ourselves in separate pursuits that challenge our intellect and enrich our lives. I think most married couples would agree that, in moderation, that’s a healthy thing to do.
So, as I sit here breathing in the fragrance of the lavender in bloom and watching a little bird nibble at the leftover remnants of Evelyn’s birdseed sensory experience, I am not going to feel the least bit guilty. Not this time.
I’m going to power down and brew another cup of coffee, because the baby’s just starting to stir…