Something Began to End in Bali

We were seated on the edge of an oceanside cliff, a magically suspended restaurant with open air and a steep view. Galena slept on the bench beside me, swaddled in a sarong, her twenty-one-month-old body exhausted from a big beach day. It was the first time in months that Rob and I found ourselves alone in conversation.

Galena was the focus of our lives, as any toddler deserves. Her presence had inspired this very trip across the world.

Kids fly free on airlines until two years old. When we heard that, something started bubbling. A spark lit by this miracle child, a profound inspiration to choose the biggest idea and go for it. Bali, for spring 2015. Almost random.

Galena came in to this human experience claiming freedom, travel and creativity. Born in a year of the horse, before she had all the words to beckon us forth, her soul was already tugging us to be adventurous. Rob and I had been together for 9 years when she had appeared in our life plan by surprise, exploding us with love and clearly making a map of her own.

With all her energy, sleep never came easily to this child. So it was a surprise to find, in this moment teetering above the sea eating sushi, a resting sweetness of such rare form.

The peace was a clash for how I had felt inside all day.

Rob asked me “how I was doing.”

I felt exhaustion rising inside myself, along with a sort of sad desperation to be understood, and I offered my truth.

“I was really grateful to go to yoga class today,” I said. “Thankful we are both kinda finding our flow here.”

I shared with him how grounding it felt to be led through a practice when most days were my own solo journey on the mat, between breastfeeding and work and now, travel.

“After class, I had some strong emotions come up. I was processing something all day and it was just, well, really draining for me.”

Rob, the gentle listener, remained still and attentive. I wanted to choose my words the way the yoga teacher had chosen hers. Strong, clear and kind.

I went on - “I looked around and noticed almost everyone else in class was a couple.” It was true. Throughout Bali I kept seeing beautiful people, many times a sea of blonde hair and tan fingers intertwined. All around me these partnerships reflected side by side beach walks, shared surfs, and a blissful freedom I was not experiencing with my own partner.

As Rob and I moved through the day, everything was “your turn, my turn” as one of us met the needs of Galena every moment. There was a sense of rhythm and flow in the exchange and a whole lot of joy. While still, it also meant doing things solo in a foreign country at a time I was least feeling like ‘myself.’

Throughout our time on the incredible Indian ocean, the swell was so big that I did not feel comfortable surfing alone. There was no option to go together. So Rob went journeying out into the waves while she and I moreso spent some cherished time together in the shallows and sand.

And they, of course, enjoyed the hours together while I found a yoga class and other adventures my soul desperately needed. And let’s be real, as a new mother, she was inevitably by my side the most.

It was our first, big international travel as a trio. We did our best.

And, I missed him.

I missed me.

There was all this longing, accompanied by guilt for feeling this way. I attempted to further explain -

“As I looked around today, I just felt like… wow. I am so grateful we rocked all those young years together.”

I could feel the emotion climbing from the trenches of my gut into my throat. I tried to keep my voice soft as the pace of my tears caught up with me. My mind rolled through nearly a decade of shared time as two silhouettes against the backdrop of the sky- surfing, hiking, skiing.

“It has felt heavy inside my chest today, like I am grieving this whole life we once had. Seeing all these couples just reminds me…”

My voice trailed off, my eyes brimming, vision blurred. The roaring ocean, offering me pause to take a breath.

He knew what I meant. How it had nothing to do with Galena. How we both knew life was only made better by her presence. And how I held deep gratitude for the privilege of this trip and for being her mother.

The experience was grief. The intrinsic, unavoidable pain that swallows us when something we love becomes never again.

Grief, even when we know the gifts are more than worth the heartache, still needs its space to unravel from our bones.

I didn’t know it then, but this trip was the beginning of many identity deaths. New skins to fit into with each passing year.

Motherhood.

Partnership.

Business.

Community.

Illness.

Aging.

The slow shedding that comes for all of us.

Perhaps, except my husband.

We sat there a moment more in silence. Rob wrapped his large fingers over my knuckles. Blinking hard, I began to apologize, rummaging for words that might move us out of the heaviness, willing to ignore my shame, slide it under the table and let it fall to the water.

Rob sensed my desire for a subject change and offered his own perspective.

“You know what I thought about today…” he said. “I looked around at all these couples too. I notice them.

But today, I watched them see us.

And I bet all they could think was - wow, those people are so cool. They are here doing this amazing trip with their baby.”

I cracked a laugh, and it surprised me. His eyes flashed at me - a bit mischievously as well as reflecting complete sincerity, as if offering me his lens to the world. A smile spread across my face as I felt the strong urge to both roll my eyes and kiss him.

I chose the kiss.

We had plenty of eye-rolling ahead in our future, I was pretty sure.

Thank you for being here. I genuinely appreciate you and this space we are creating.

Be well,

Adge

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This (2015) memory is an excerpt of a larger work I am compiling. Rich memories and stories have been channeling through me. Some beckoning forth to be revealed. Sharing them here, intermittent among my essays, has been vulnerable and exhilarating. Thank you! More to come.