Half Life

POST TWO OF THREE RE: CLOSURE TOWARDS THE FAILED IN VITRO

The lesson I learned at the opera: IF YOU WANT IT TO COUNT, YOU HAVE TO REALLY GO FOR IT.

Much to Greg’s delight (I hope you can hear the sarcasm) I committed our family to an educational preview of Puccini's La Boheme on a school night a few weeks ago. Educational preview is code for FREE. It means we got to watch their dress rehearsal Thursday night before they performed to paid full houses on Friday and Saturday.

We enjoyed Smashburger before the show (thanks, Pooles) and with a Beehive Burger and Oreo shake comfortably weighing me down I nestled into my seat with great anticipation. My family was about to be blown away by the awesomeness that was La Boheme.

I'm no opera hound. I have just loved La Boheme since my parents took me to it in 8^th grade. I saw it again at BYU with a nice boy named Brian while Elder Oaks sat directly behind us. I was well-behaved on that date, to be sure, and I've admired Elder Oaks a little extra since because he attends the opera. The story? Meh. The music? Unparalleled. La Boheme showcases more big notes than any other music I've heard. It's like fourteen "Ode to Joys" in a row.

Except when it's an educational preview.

Turns out that every time Mimi or Musetta or Rodolfo melodically inched toward the big notes they would quickly shift an octave lower or to a whisper. I witnessed heaven being hijacked. There were no goosebumps. I never had to close my eyes and pinch myself to ascertain if I had been transported to the stratosphere. Those little divas marked the entire opera.

Marking: When a singer chooses to sing half-voice or an octave lower for a rehearsal, usually because their voice is tired.

I had the awful realization at the opera that while I aim high for most of the facets of my life, I am really just marking several big notes. Mostly because I'm tired.

The notes that matter to me: family dinner, one-on-one time with RE, one-on-one time with Greg, wholesome family recreation.

How I'm singing them: rapid-fire-shove-it-down-so-you-can-get-to-your-next-function dinners, letting RE play Webkinz after school because I am too tired to play with her, reading my ipad in bed next to Greg, who is also reading his ipad, and watching TV as a family.

How dinner could sound: a meaningful family gathering where we discuss matters of importance and place armor on our child to protect her for coming days.

How one-on-one with RE could sound: instead of sleeping in I could be up with My Rooster to partake of breakfast-making, piano-practicing, and her willingly spilling mouth. Instead of letting Webkinz rot her brain I could teach her anything. I could teach her about Michelangelo or how to iron dress shirts or why I use ice water to make pie crust flaky. Anything would be better than me resting on the couch with an ice pack while I let her whittle her childhood away with the companionship of digital animals.

How one-on-one with Greg could sound: we could unplug from it all and use the time to strengthen our marriage and clear the brush from our path with actual conversation.

How wholesome family recreation could sound: we could cancel our infernal cable and force ourselves to read aloud, play board games, visit neighbors, walk the dog, and work on RE's treehouse together. Or we could go full on Little House on the Prarie and Greg could fiddle for us by firelight while I darn socks and RE plays with buttons on a string. You laugh, but that is my heart's desire.

I really went for it with IVF. I aimed high. I gave it my all and because I did I have absolutely no regrets. I learned that my personal satisfaction in life won't necessarily come from a result but from the effort I put forth.

If you say it really matters to you, you need to live your life in a way that proves it. If you're just going to mark life's precious notes you are substituting mediocrity in place of soul-searing, skin-prickling glory. You are wasting your one and only operatic performance with a half life.

After the emotional hibernation our little threesome has endured this winter Greg decided it was time to wake up and do something awesome with our circumstance (our circumstance being no baby, no stroller, no diaper bag, and an easy preteen who still likes to cling to us). So the Three Musketeers are headed to Paris. Coincidentally, Paris is the setting for La Boheme. We intend on hitting the high notes there.

*Once my dad and I drove up to Logan, Utah together very early on a Sunday morning. We were headed to my brother’s house because he was blessing his baby in church that day. Since it was just the two of us we blasted La Boheme in its entirety. We didn't need words. We just needed to test the allegedly shatterproof windows in my Honda for two hours. I'll never forget it.