Learning to Dance in the Rain

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…it’s learning to dance in the rain.

Yesterday was a stormy day for me. It rained and rained and rained. I didn’t bring an umbrella because I didn’t realise there would be no cover for me. As the day wore on, the clouds swarmmed round and round. Circling my worry with the care of an angry crowd. The storm was my own. There was only room for me. No one else could enter it. No one could take me out of it. I just had to wear it. Towards the end of the day I felt wet and tired. The storm had worn me down. I could fight it no longer.

And then, in a moment pure peace, the storm lifted. I found I was dry and no longer worn. I was able to connect with life again. My own and the one growing inside me. As the waves of revelation rolled over me the white wash was my joy. Bubbling up and out from within.

I did not dance in the rain yesterday but I can now see how one could. I did not protect myself from the storm. If this is how I respond to the storm, I need to learn to dance in the rain. I do not want to be helpless again. The storm should not take my life away.

It’s all O.k.

It’s all O.k. Baby’s heart is beating so well. I am so happy. I love you my Little One.

Afraid

Today I am feeling afraid.

We have our first appointment this afternoon and with it will come both confirmation and clarity. This is the sentence I use to reassure myself.

I feel unsure about whether I am pregnant. I have this fear that I will lay down and she will say to me, “You have no baby growing inside you.”

To which I will say, “So I guess it was all my imagination after all.”

My even greater fear is that there will be a baby without a heartbeat.

I will often lay out the facts before me to prove to myself that I am pregnant.

• I have positive pregnancy tests
• I missed my period
• I am exhausted
• I am spontaneously desperately thirsty
• By breasts hurt and have done so from the very beginning
• I can feel by uterus growing as the ligaments stretch. I have never had an ache that has brought so much comfort.
• I had spotting when the placenta implanted at 6 weeks.

Fear is ugly. Fear consumes me. It is so hard not to worry when I think I know nothing about anything. I just want to know that everything is O.K.

Starting People

“Babies are such a nice way to start people.”

2mm

Oh how my Little One has grown! They are now no longer the size of a poppy seed. They are now 2mm long and the size of a sesame seed. That is a complete double in size since this time last week. Apparently our Baby will start to move this week and it’s little heart will start to beat. No wonder I feel exhausted. My body is busy making another body. Your body. This is the time where you are being knit together in your mothers womb. Your mother… that’s me!

I fear that if I met you in the street, my Little One, I wouldn’t recognise you. You have grown so much. xxx

Trust

The decision of whom to trust with the care of my pregnancy and the birth of my Little One weighing on my mind. The Doctor we choose will be the hands that first hold our Child. They will share the words that will help us to make decisions through out the next 8 months. They need to be a person I can trust. In the delivery room, if they say, “You need a c-section” I need to be able to trust their direction.  

At the end of the day Ernest Hemingway says it best.
“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”
―    Ernest Hemingway

Fortunately there are amazing Doctors to choose from. I know they have studied for years to be able to deliver babies. I also know that unless God is keeping us safe, we are not safe. I trust that God is holding us. Me and my Little One. We are so privileged in this world. My choice is between the best and the best. Some mothers have no choice to make. They don’t have access to Ob/Gyn’s. Not surprisingly, they do just fine in most cases. Women have babies all the time. Some are born in rice fields. Some are born amongst the rubble of war. I find myself often thinking about the women of Syria. Does the woman in Syria, who has just discovered she is pregnant like me, rejoice or dispar? What choices is she facing at this moment. While I think about who will give me the best care, is she thinking about if she will have any family left to care for her new child? Does she wonder if the only time she will have with her child is while it inside her womb? Does she fear that she may not survive the war to raise her little one? Is the joy of creating a new life overshadowed by the loss of life around her? What happens in the secret place of the pregnant women of Syria?

At work I am conscious of not putting myself in dangerous positions. No standing on table. No inhaling strong fumes. Decreasing my caffeine. Driving carefully. What things is she conscious of? Crossing the street? Being killed? Finding food amongst the chaos?

I hope to one day meet that woman. I want to hear her story. I want to tell her my heart ached for her.

Little One

“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth.”
― Jess C. Scott, 1: The Intern

You are our Little One. My heart sings over you my Little One.