Determined to walk home from my hair appointment on a beautiful fall day became the inspiration for this piece, and an unexpected lesson on metaphors.

 

        Hiking the wonderful rail trails and rustic pedestrian paths around the area is my greatest outdoor pleasure since moving back to West Virginia. The “walks” I take along the level grounds of Cheat Lake and Monongahela River, and the more rigorous Cooper’s Rock trails afford a scenic, often invigorating experience.  

     Closer to home, there’s a terrain I want to conquer. I have seen hikers along the steep asphalt hillsides of my subdivision. They hadn’t appeared to be struggling, though I know it is grueling out there. Even so, on this day, the hills I am preparing to climb on foot in my own neighborhood look daunting, and heretofore, have only been done by me in an automobile.     

      I had once experienced a steeply graded trail in Montana called “Lava Lake” which took two hours to climb “straight up” and tested every bit of lung and will power I had. Following that experience, which culminated in a picnic along Lava Lakes’ rocky perimeter, replete with a view of the snow capped mountains reflected in the pristine Lake (in the National-Geographic sense), I concluded it had all been well worth the effort. Half way up the climb, though, I remember equating the experience to having gone through natural childbirth, my only frame of reference for something that took everything I had, mentally and physically, to make it to completion.

     On today’s climb, my goal is to end at our home, which is located at the top of a picturesque subdivision known as “Greystone”. To give you an idea of the layout, I’ll start at the top and describe the terrain. It consists of two and a half miles of downhill winding roads; once you traverse the sprawling neighborhood of homes set on expansive lawns, you come out of the entrance and curve around a busy street which leads you to the place of my embarkation: Ashebrooke Square, a busy little shopping center where my beautician is located. I have a hair appointment this day.   

      I’d climbed the steep hills home from Ashebrooke Square thousands of times in my SUV and knew it would be quite a contest if I ever chose, or had to walk it. 

     Choosing the challenge, call it “fall fever” or impulsiveness; I set out with a can-do attitude and plenty of time. With my newly highlighted tresses and my backpack strapped on, I set out in my well-worn cross-trainers with one goal in mind: to walk home.

      Forging ahead towards my subdivision on the lovely fall day, I take the geography in segments. I’d conquered Lava Lake, right? Up ahead is my first test: traffic along a busy, curvy highway with no sidewalks. Marching along, I hop up onto a stone embedded cemetery lot to avoid being target practice for cars flying around the road. I navigate headstones, mentally asking the dead for forgiveness for my trampling feet.

                                                                                                                     

     Once I can safely negotiate the road again, I hike up the asphalt between the large stone pillars that mark the entrance to my subdivision, and my first real challenging climb ensues. I lean into the hill. The incline is so steep that the road really does rise up to meet me. The once pleasant temperature turns rapidly warm as I work my legs hard into that first hill. As I am being tested by that first climb, I decide not to look too far up ahead, but keep my face to the ground. Huffing and puffing, I mentally rehearse the subsequent stresses that await me in the familiar route home. Once my initial hike levels out, my adrenaline rush kicks in.  

     As I walk downhill for a stretch, I realize I have three significant climbs still ahead of me. Then it hits me! Each of these challenging stretches could be related to, in some way, to each of my birth experiences, which they parallel quite remarkably. The hills themselves, each unique in their own length and intensity, begin to mirror each of my daughter’s coming into the world to some extent. As I contemplate the similarities, distant memories begin to return, and my mind recalls each experience as my legs, lungs and will do their work.

 

 Not knowing what to expect that first time, hers is an unexpected emergence as my water breaks that day in New Martinsville. Already a week over, I am giddy with anticipation and blissful ignorance. The Pitocin drip is sneaky but I am naïve. It is more than I bargained for; no getting on top of the waves of contractions, not with Pitocin. Just lean into the pain. Keep moving forward. Ohhh- Curses. This is what they meant. Determination, grit and youth would be my sentries. Focal point! Breathing! I climbed. She came, all 7+ pounds, an unexpected red head and everything seems new. Exhilarating, at first, being a new mom; nursing. Then the heart ache, the real kind that doesn’t let up. I’m not sure if I can do this at all. She left so soon: an avalanche of emotions; on the downhill side, time to contemplate. Don’t look up, not too far ahead. There’ll be another hill, maybe more forgiving. All muscles are tired and wounded. Pitch a tent and rest awhile.

   Next was the reward of Jennifer Marie. Mix of memory, wisdom and hope going in. Approaching the next hill with sheer grit and blind faith, I remember praying to St. Mary, my catholic background reminding me she was a teenager on a donkey, for heaven’s sake. She could relate to my fears. I would name Jennifer after her. It’s time; the mucous plug, a tell-tail sign of impending birth. I call Martha who predicts “72 hours”. The ride to St. Joseph’s in Parkersburg is a painful one.

  Like the present hill, the premonition of this second birth has “ unconquered and steep” written all over it. Determination resounds in my soul and in my pounding heart. Deep inside I know this climb will bring a glorious victory somehow. Like an eagle, I could soar at this level. Clear, oxygenated lungs plus a mind and heart so undergirded with prayer that nothing could push the mountain down on me. She’s 9#+; marvelous and lovely; my heart and soul are completely quenched from their thirst. She makes me believe I can do anything, like reach Mount Everest!

    Caroline Virginia brings a mountain range of emotions; and her own agenda. I approach the next hill. Smothered in sunshine, where did that fall breeze go? I see shade up ahead in the distance. There’s an issue with her due date-if I can just make it there. Now I am burning up! Take it in small segments. This is the longest climb and her arrival is 3 weeks overtime. The yard workers see me huffing and puffing as they tend their steep jobs. “Why would anyone work that hard if they weren’t getting paid to…?” they seem to ask. “What could she possibly be doing in there?” I ask. I climb higher, higher, my heart and lungs and legs are used to being pulled and stretched now. Intervention is not an option. Once I reach the shady spot, I don’t stop, but press on through, up to the top of the third climb. As I reach the summit, I determine that this was a once in a lifetime climb and I level out. It’s beautiful from up here and so is she. All 9#+! My Blountstown, Florida baby’s skin is like bronze. She baked in that oven!

     Kathryn Nelle’s birth is my last. She’ll bring me full circle.