On Holy Thursday, I was 20 weeks and 1 day pregnant. And for the first time, I allowed myself to be fully joyful: inside, I had an all-out party with myself and Tiny Dancer. I named the baby Tiny Dancer when I first saw legs and arms move as if in joy, as if to say to me--Mama! Look at me! And I did, and I fell in love.
I saw, through the miracle of science, pictures of my little one, full head, limbs, belly, squirming and stretching and telling me, yes, I am here, I am going nowhere until it’s time. Little by little I learn the lesson of trust. Each milestone feels different this time, teaches me something new about myself. In recent days I find myself coaching from within: accept whatever comes. Accept the strange feeling of your belly pulling down and outward; accept the possibility something has gone wrong; accept the possibility all has gone well. Accept it all--it may all be true. Accept the gift of each day given freely. This, my latest lesson in becoming more and more human.
Along with this come other lessons. My practice and prayer through Lent really flourished through to Easter: I am cultivating some patience, genuine communication, and understanding even when things seem inscrutable. All this is better than that malaise I was in, that dark shuffle through suffering which felt like a march without purpose. None of this could be without my real aim at communing with God: I have taken a moment each day to do nothing else but be quiet, still, and prioritize nothing but the meditative moment, for its sake only.
I have come far; who knows what’s to come? I hope I am ready. There are still question marks, wonderment both hopeful and hesitant, paths yet to choose.