They were supposed to be blue.

Blue is MY color (have you seen my logo?) Every spring I plant blue Morning Glory seeds; in mid-summer we’re rewarded with tightly wound buds, with a purple-ish hue, gradually bursting open into the most heavenly pale blue with the first morning sun.  The flowers are exotic and unique,  the complete opposite of the crab-grass infested sorry-excuse-for-a-patio-garden I plant every year.  The winding vines seem to thrive despite my brown (definitely not green) thumb. It’s borderline pathetic really, considering my childhood was an actual chapter out of Little House in the Big Woods; we grew our own food, canning and freezing it for the year; thank goodness we have Wegmans (I’m obsessed with Wegmans- another story for another time!)

You guessed it.

In true 2020 fashion, this year the Morning Glories are not blue. Every morning I”m greeted by heavy, ominous, trumpet blossoms of midnight purple, the exact opposite of light and ethereal.  I’ve accepted the flowers begrudgingly.  It’s too late to plant again and the local hardware store’s seed display was replaced with a wall of toilet paper, masks and disinfectant months ago.

You get what you get (and you don’t get upset).

Ironically, I’ve actually spent more time than normal on our patio this summer, observing these little amethyst blooms. With the patio becoming our exclusive stay-cation-pandemic retreat, hubby has been in chemical warfare against the mosquitoes (definitely worse after the tropical storm), an improvement from having to empty a full can of OFF in exchange for 10 minutes outdoors.

We scored an E-bay win in May, a behemoth 10ft diameter inflatable pool (complete with filtering system- hubby has safety on lock!) which dominates the patio space. I can wedge myself into the shade by the pool, lulled by the screams of delight from my kids as they splash away in pandemic summer bliss for hours.  They’ve developed a keen skill to project water in the exact direction of any kindle, laptop or smartphone I’ve brought out to work. Once I’ve given up on electronics in a splash zone, there’s plenty of time to count each dark purple bloom as it stretches wide in the cool morning, only to shrivel back into itself as the oppressive afternoon sun bakes the sprawling plant.  They’re still not blue, but they’ll do.

Not a Hallmark message of making lemonade out of lemons.

I will always prefer blue over purple. Always. 
I would’ve also preferred an uncomplicated and uninteresting postpartum story of my own, one less dominated by unanswered questions during recovery and closer to my expectations of social media worthy maternal perfection.  My expectations didn’t match the reality of postpartum recovery.  Chances are, if you follow me and have read this far, you did too. I was disappointed because my expectations were wrong.

I didn’t sit back for long and accept it.

I worked the problem (I’m still working the problem) and I stopped having expectations. I got over looking for “the expected right thing” and settled on what was right for me in each moment.  If it weren’t for my experience as a PT, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to find that path alone. 

Postpartum expectations are like Fight Club rules.

“You don’t talk about Fight Club.”   Screw that.  Let’s get real and forget the rules and expectations.  They’re holding you back anyways.  The more important question is how will you take what you’ve been given and move forward? 

(OK, I lied, maybe we’re making lemonade here after all.) 

Postpartum recovery not what you expected?  That’s why I’m here.  I get that you didn’t get what you expected; me either.   Let’s move on and see what we can do.

If you’re ready to try something different where other’s have failed,  I’m your person. 

I’m not afraid to talk about Fight Club.

I also gave up on unrealistic postpartum rules and expectations a long time ago.  I’m too busy helping women get back to activities they thought were gone forever.

As for the purple blossoms, I think they’ll stay.  (Me, looking down realizing I’m wearing a purple tank top…seriously) Maybe purple isn’t so bad after all.  I’m still buying blue seeds next year!

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Stay safe!
-Carrie

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