Claire has a cold, but she’s not so sick that she isn’t restless. Today was better, so in the afternoon we went to a park to romp in the sunshine. She’s getting more coordinated each day, and climbs like a little monkey on all the play structures — even the ones designed for 7-12 year olds. It was around rush hour when Caltrain runs a lot of trains; we were near the station, and she was transfixed by the horn every time she heard it.

So we went to the station, where we saw four trains go by. One was a Union Pacific double-engine chugging slowly up and down the track for no apparent reason. One was a local train that stopped in Santa Clara; the other two were express trains that barreled through at 70 miles an hour. It is a sight and sound to behold! Tons and tons of steel roar past, creating a wind suction that would knock a child over. Claire was in her stroller and I put my arm around her; I was concerned this experience would frighten her.

Her response: “Big train! Big train! Toot!” This was followed by her usual monologue spoken in Claireish with an occasional word I recognize. She was intensely interested. I, on the other hand, find these roaring trains exciting and terrifying, in part because I am capable of imagining dreadful things (which I try to avoid).

I have my own train to face in a few days. I do not like undergoing general anesthesia. I have an irrational fear that I might not wake up. Again, I do my best not to feed it, but the anxiety hums underneath. I’m also not looking forward to being immobilized, to losing control of the way my house runs, to my daughter crying because I can’t get up to play with her, and to pain.

On the other hand, this is the first time in 18 months that I will have the opportunity to sleep as much as I want and rest. That is a comforting thought. Another comfort is that my playgroup has a program to help moms in need, and people volunteered to bring food during my confinement. We’ll get eight meals from generous mothers.